


I Know Places

by my_achilles_heel



Series: Wildest Dreams [2]
Category: British Actor RPF, Hiddleswift, Taylor Swift (Musician), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Drama, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Heavy Angst, Light Angst, Oral Sex, Romance, Sex, Shower Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 20:44:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8416135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_achilles_heel/pseuds/my_achilles_heel
Summary: Sequel to “Wildest Dreams’. Written to Taylor Swift’s song “I Know Places”. Ever since Taylor Swift and Tom Hiddleston hooked up on the night of the Met Gala, they have been inseparable and have managed to keep their relationship a secret. But what happens when the media beats them to announcing their relationship, and the aftermath that comes next? Will their love die out so easily, or can they make it threw the hell that is about to come together?(**Originally posted to my old AO3 account, jenniiichristine, in late 2014. However, I deleted that account in September 2016 because I thought I didn't have time to write fanfiction anymore because of law school. Reposting it now since I'm going back to writing fanfiction after resuming with writing recently.**)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original Author's Note for this chapter:
> 
> "Hey guys! I've been wanting to make another Hiddleswift fanfic, and I figured why not make a sequel to my last one? So I'm writing it to Taylor Swift's song, "I Know Places." I know the idea and plot isn't unique, but I don't really care. I'd like to explore what just might happen if they were to get together in real life and the world would find out. I know it would be pure hell.  
> The rating is explicit for now because I do plan on there being some smut later down the road. And all the characters tagged with also show up later down the road. I'm not sure how many chapters this fic will be, but bear with me! I hope you enjoy this first chapter :) Also, have a happy new year, my darlings!"

Ever since that night—that magical night, something sparked between us. It was more than just a one night stand. I could feel it in my bones, and I think he could, too. After goofing off and making breakfast together that morning, he had changed and I walked him to the door, still in my silk floral robe. We exchanged numbers, and Tom made me promise to keep in touch. Naturally, there was a blush on my cheeks and a happy grin. But _love’s a fragile little flame and it can burn out_. I knew this wouldn’t last. He pulled me into an embrace, kissed me on my forehead, and bid me adieu after a night that can best be described as heaven itself.

I was so wrong. Here we are, six months later, and we’re dating. The media doesn’t know, though—we can’t risk that. I know his fans would want to rip me to shreds, and the media would say Tom better run before I rip him apart like I do with all the other men I _supposedly_ dated. We had decided to keep it a secret between our closest friends and us. Not even our families knew.

Since for the first time our breaks from our work overlapped, we decided to take a vacation in the Caribbean Islands. Tom tried so hard to let me have him pay the whole thing, but I wouldn’t have that. I finally got him to give in and let us split it evenly.

We found a remote hotel, five-stars on the beach, and made sure the staff wouldn’t leak that we were staying here together. And they didn’t. It’s our fourth day here, and Tom and I have been in nothing but pure bliss. He makes love to me in the morning and night, holding me so tenderly as he whispers words of love into my ear. It’s nothing full of passion as he treasures every inch of my body, and I the same. _For once you let go of your fears and your ghosts_. In the matter of six months, Tom has managed to become my everything.

We’re sitting on our towels on the beach, sunglasses on and the sea breeze blowing back my hair. I lift my hand up to keep my hat on my head from blowing away, but I give up and just decide to take it off and put it in my bag. Because of his latest role, his hair had to change naturally. He has it just like he did for _The Hollow Crown_ —facial hair and all. And I love it. I don’t care what hairstyle he has, and even if he’s bald, because I’m falling for him as he is. Tom cares for me as the crazy, quirky, awkward cat lady that I am. I couldn’t ask for anything more. 

I roll over and straddle Tom’s hips as he lays on the towel and he chuckles. “You know, Taylor, we can’t do it out here,” He whispers, shooting me a mischievous look.

“Oh quit it!” I laugh, punching his arm playfully. “Even though you just _ooze_ sexiness, and I can’t contain myself around you, that doesn’t mean all I want to do is make love with you every second of the day.” I shot back jockingly, rolling my eyes. “Let’s take a dip in the ocean!” I get off of him and jump up like an excited little girl. “C’mon, lazy!” I reach down, taking his hand and forcing him to stand up.

“Well it looks like I don’t have a choice, now do I?” Tom grinned, shaking his head. He licks his lips as he looks at me up and down with my short, windswept hair and bikini—all natural, and he’s entranced by every inch of me. I have him wrapped around my finger, and he has me the same way.

“Nope. You have to obey my every order and whim,” I stick my tongue out before taking off in a sprint, pulling him along with me. I’m wearing a white and navy striped bikini, with high-waited bottoms and a bustier kind of top that push up my breasts. Hey, gotta make the girls look better, right 

The scene of us running into the water together, and Tom lifting me up in his arms and spinning me around could be in a movie, I swear. I’m giggling as he does this, and all of a sudden he throws me into the water. Oh, oh no he isn’t going to get away that easily. I pop back up to the surface, gasping for breath as I narrow my eyes at him and he’s full on laughing he can’t stop. “Oh, you should have seen your face, Tay! It was priceless! 

“You’re not,” I say, treading water to get closer to him. “Going to get away with that!” I grin deviously, jumping up and placing my hands on his head, shoving him down into the water as I laugh. He had it coming—it was only suiting. But I lift my hands up, moving away so he can come back up, and he does. Tom gasps for breath, shaking his head and wiping the water from his eyes. “You little…” He’s at a loss for words as he narrows his eyes at me.

“Hmm?” I blink my eyes like an innocent girl. “What are you going to do to me for being a bad girl, _Thomas?”_ His name slips off my tongue and I bite my lip.

“I’m going to punish you, my darling,” Tom says huskily as he comes to me, wrapping his strong arms around my body. He showers me with kisses all over my face and body, and tickles me as I giggle and squirm under his tough. He stops and captures my lips in a passionate, long kiss. He slips his tongue into my mouth, and I pull away for a moment. “Let’s take this to the room,” I eye him.

Tom scoops me up suddenly, carrying me bridal style towards the shore so we can go back to our secluded room. I laugh, and grab his face with my hands, giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

Then I see the last thing I wanted to see. There’s one person on the shore. It’s a short, stubby man with a Hawaiian button up shirt and cargo shorts. He has a camera with a huge lens in his hands and he’s snapping photos of us nonstop. My jaw drops, and I know Tom’s does too as he comes to a stop. We look at each other.

_Oh shit._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note for this chapter:
> 
> "I decided why not add a second chapter even though I JUST published the first chapter. I'm actually getting really wrapped into this fic and enjoying writing it :) More to come in the future, stay tuned! ***WARNING: SMUT LIES AHEAD***"

Of all times—now? And the hotel had been doing such a good job with making sure no one would find out that we were here. Yet, somehow, one paparazzi guy managed to slip in. I suppose one is better than having fifty of them out here snapping photos and harassing us. 

I let out a sigh, rolling my eyes. Tom was silent, and I could see on his face that he was growing more upset by the minute. “How dare he disturb our peace and quiet,” He snarled, clenching his jaw.

“Tom, don’t do anything you’re going to regret,” I said, reaching up and placing my hand on his cheek to get his attention. He looked down at me and his facial expression softened. “Just act like he’s not here—like it’s just us,” I stated.

Tom nodded, and he continued to walk and carry me bridal style. Once he reached the shore, the short and stubby man ran to us and almost fell face first into the sand. Oh how I would have wanted to see that! He started harassing us with questions like, “How did you two meet?”, “How long have you two been together?”, “Taylor are you going to write a song about Tom?”. He asked all of the usual, ridiculous questions.

I didn’t answer him back. Instead, I gave my classic, _“Really? Is this necessary?”_ look on my face. Tom grabbed my hand, intertwining our fingers together as he pulled me along his side. I lifted my available arm in the air as I turned my head, continuing to shoot the guy that look until I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to Tom.

He was walking with his usual long strides, and I quickened my pace slightly so I was next to him. I squeezed his hand reassuringly. We stayed in silence until we got to our room, where Tom slid open the sliding doors and stepped in. I followed behind him and shut the door, then sat on our freshly made bed. “What the hell?! Can we ever get some peace and quiet and be treated like actual _human beings_ like we are?! We’re not some zoo animals—“

I cut him off. He was just steaming with fury and anger. “Calm down, Tom!” I snapped, hoping to get his attention. It was rare for me to snap at someone, let alone him and I have only gotten into a few fights so far. So Tom, who was pacing back and forth in front of the bed during the beginning of his rant, stopped in his tracks as soon as I snapped at him. He looked over at me, blinking his eyes in shock. I got him to be absolutely speechless.

“Look, you have to think that’s his job. He probably has a family that he has to put food on the table somehow for,” I shrugged my shoulders, looking down sheepishly. Why was I actually defending a member of the paparazzi for once? “There’s no use getting upset. He got thousands of photos of us most likely, and their all on his camera. There’s nothing we can do now,” I said and looked back at tom. I clenched my jaw, groaning in frustration. “As much as I hate to admit it, this is all out of our control now. All we can do is damage control once this gets out to the media.” Oh we both knew our publicists would be all over our asses for this one. I could just imagine it now, getting yelled out by a furious Paula Erickson.

“You’re right, you’re right,” Tom ran his hands through his luxurious wet hair before plopping down next to me on the bed. Our eyes locked. I was lost in his sea blue eyes, and him lost in mine that resembled the clear, blue sky above us. Then it dawned on me—what would we do when our families finds out through the media of all ways? I bit my lip, eyes flickering away from Tom’s.

He suddenly grew concerned for my well-being, reaching out with one hand. He placed it on the side of my face, turning my head so I could look at him again. “What’s wrong, darling?” He cooed, brow furrowed.

“Our families, Tom. We can’t have them finding out about…us through the media. It’s not right,” I furrowed my own brow in frustration. “We need to tell them A.S.A.P.” There goes our secret romance down the drain.

“Ah, yes,” Tom licked his lips in thought, trying to picture how his parents would react. His mother was already pushing him to settle down and give her grandchildren. His sisters would most likely tease the hell out of him. “Let’s not worry about that for now. We’ll address it later on today, okay?” He said while using his thumb to rub it against the skin on my cheek. I shut my eyes, putting my head more into the palm of his hand. My hands reached up, placing it on his hand to press it more against me. I loved when he did this—it always calmed me down so much.

Tom smiled as he looked at me, and my eyes re-opened to look at him. “But _this_ can’t wait,” He interrupted the silence, taking his hand off from my face. He took my wrists and wrapped his hands around them, and quickly pinned me against the bed, keeping my arms raised about my head. Tom straddled my hips, careful not to put too much of his weight on my petite frame. He had a devious grin and a look of pure lust in his eyes as he looked at me in my scantily clad body.

I licked my lips hungrily, eyes devouring the site of his beautiful torso. If only I could reach to run my hands over every ripple of muscle on his abdomen. “Take me. I’m _all yours, Thomas,”_ I cooed seductively.

Tom licked his lips in return, letting go of my wrists as he wrapped his arms around me, meeting my lips with a hungry desire for me, and I for him. His tongue plunged deep into my mouth, and I managed to twist us so now we were lying on our sides, legs entangled. He bit on my bottom lip every now and then, getting very small moans from me. I sucked on his bottom lip, managing to get a groan and a slap on my ass from him. As he slapped it and grabbed one of my cheeks, he growled against my lips, “Damn, I can never get enough of you, Taylor.” I laughed and pulled him in tighter against my body. I slipped one of my hands between us, though, feeling his torso.

I pulled away and broke our kiss, leaving the both of us panting for air. “Oh just fuck me already,” I said with a scoff. “ _I need you_.” I could never get enough of this gorgeous man. Every time we had sex, I always learned something new about his body—like how there was a beauty mark on his lower back on the right side, or a few freckles on the tips of his ears.

“Not so fast, my love,” Tom said, reaching behind my neck and undoing the tie of my bikini top. He took it off with ease, throwing it off to the side like it was nothing. “I want to treasure your beautiful body first. Please bear with me for now,” He planted his lips against mine before moving them to my cheek, then jawline, and down to my neck now.

I turned my neck to the side to give him more of a vantage point, and his lips came to the crook of my neck where he sucked and nibbled on my skin. “Ahhh,” I moaned softly, shutting my eyes. I buried my hands deep into his hair, hanging onto his luscious curls. His lips moved down to my chest where he decided to focus on my breasts, if only for a little while. He sucked on one breast and his tongue swirled around my nipple, and my back arched in return, causing my chest to grow closer to his mouth. He moved onto the other breast, giving it the same attention, all the while I let out soft moans of pleasure to his liking. I could feel him growing harder with each passing second as he pressed his member in between my legs, grinding himself against my body.

I opened my legs and wrapped one around his hips, pulling him in closer to me so he could keep grinding. And I joined in, getting our movements to be in sync as I rolled my hips. “Oh, Taylor,” Tom growled against my breast, lifting his head up to look at me.

I bit my lip as I looked up at him thirstily, my hands going down to his swim trunks and undoing the tie, slipping them down his body. Tom had to sit on the edge of the bed to slip them off, and I laid on my side waiting for him. Once he got them off, he turned back to me, crawling towards me huskily. His long dick stood up tall and proud for me, and there was a devilish glint in his eyes. “Come here,” He beckoned for me softly.

 

I sat up, curious to what he had planned. “Whatever you have up your sleeve right now, I like it,” I winked at him as I crawled towards him. Once I got to him. Tom enveloped me in his arms and slipped a hand down my bikini bottoms. He started to play with my cunt, rubbing it first in slow, deep circles before increasing the tempo. His lips went to one of my earlobes, nibbling on it. He bucked his hips forward, his hard dick pressing against my thigh. “I’m so hard for you, Taylor,” Tom groaned as he kept nibbling.

I sighed contently, eyes rolling into the back of my head as I closed them. “ _Oh, Tom,”_ I moaned, my arms wrapped around his upper back as I pulled him as much as possible against my body. I tossed my head back, just being taken over in complete pleasure by him. “We’ll have to…relieve you then,” I managed to purr in response.

Next thing I know, Tom is sliding down my bikini bottoms. I let go of him and slide them off my legs and toss them on the ground next to us. He then takes me by surprise, lying down on the bed and taking me with him. We lay on our sides facing each other. Our legs are tangled, and our arms are wrapped around each other. Tom takes my lips into a passionate, slow kiss. There’s no tongue this time, and I can tell all he wants to do is treasure my body, and this moment together. I return the kiss with so much love and compassion for him, wanting to somehow show him in this way just how much I care for him 

Tom slides himself into me, slowly at first and easing his way in. He lets go of my lips, and slightly groans as he fills me all the way to the top. I can feel him against my naval now that he’s completely inside me, and my walls are getting use to his length and girth. He starts with slow, hard thrusts filled with passion as he gazes into my eyes, his blue orbs glazed over with love and lust for me. My eyes remain locked with his and are filled with warmth. All that matters is us in this moment—he’s all I see, and all I need. You have no idea how much this man means to me.

Tom continues his thrusts at that tempo, and I moan in pure bliss. He finally decides to pick up the tempo, increasing speed and hardness gradually. My moans grow louder in return, and so do his own. My hands drop from his upper back down to just below his ass, pushing him against my body to urge him to keep going. Tom snickers as my hands do this and he gets the memo, now taking me with full speed and force.

Now I’m moaning impossibly louder, and I can feel him hitting my g-spot repeatedly. “OH, Tom! Oh my god!” My breathing quickens and sometimes my breath hitches in my throat when he hits my g-spot. He’s growing faster and furious, taking me so roughly as he moans my name aloud, “Taylor, Taylor! You’re so damn tight!” And he is just so erotic in this moment.

Playfully, just as payback, I slap his ass and squeeze one of his cheeks like he does to me during sex from time to time. I grin and he looks at me, tossing his head back with a booming laugh. “You sly vixen, you,” He groans, now going as hard and fast as possible. “You’re going to pay for that one,” Tom squeezes my ass with both hands. He cups both cheeks, drawing me in impossibly closer so he can fill me up with his whole entire member. He’s thrusting uncontrollably now, and we’re both moaning so loud. I grind my hips against his, meeting his thrusts.

Next thing I know I’m having an orgasm finally, and my walls tighten around his dick, milking it with my juices. I moan and scream, “THOMAS!” As I cum, liquid spilling out from my pussy. Tom cums just as my walls tighten and coat his dick with all of it’s juices, and his seed spills into me. He tosses his head back, groaning my name just as loud as I did with his. He thrusts into me a couple of times, eyes squeezed tight as the last of his cum squirts into me.

I’m panting, trying to catch my breath. With the tropical weather and all of this friction there’s sweat on my forehead and our bodies are practically glued together because Tom is sweating also. He stops his thrusts and is panting, opens his eyes and lowers his head to look at me. He withdraws his member from me, now soft. Our legs stay tangled up, and my hand is on his cheek, while he places one of his hands on my cheek.

There’s nothing but pure love for me radiating off this soft, romantic expression on his face. He’s just absolutely glowing with it. “You’re my best friend, Taylor. I love you.” He says the three words I never saw coming. Tom Hiddleston, of all people, just admitted that he loves me. _He_ loves _me?_ What, am I in some kind of alternate universe?

My already flushed cheeks grow a deeper red, and I bite on my lower lip trying to hide the biggest smile that is creeping on my face. My lips give in and pull into that wide grin, and I grab his face with both hands. “Thomas William Hiddleston, I love you too.” _And you knew what it was, he is in love._ He smiles with the biggest grin I’ve ever seen on his face, and he resembles a happy and excited puppy 

Tom lifts up the sheets beneath us on the bed, and our bodies go under them while our heads rest on the pillows. I pull him in for a deep kiss, and he presses his lips back with the same amount of love for me, if not more. I break the kiss and lick my lips after, relishing in the taste of him. I’m breathing in his scent—oh I just love how sweet, yet strong his smell is. I could bask in it forever. And he relishes in the subtle sweetness of my scent, and we’re both in pure bliss right now.

“Let’s take a nap,” Tom suggests, kissing my forehead. “So we can get some energy back for what else we have planned for the day,” He smiles. I nod in return and sigh, shutting my eyes and he does, too. _You can hear it in the silence, silence. You’re in love, true love._

And as I’m drifting off to sleep, it occurs to me when we wake up that we need to call our families to tell them. I’m filled with the anxiety of having to do this, and then sleep takes over me, and I fall deep into the dream that comes.

I’m suddenly sitting at the family dining table, and Tom is next to me. There’s a ham in the center, and Mama, Dad, and Austin are here, too, and are passing around the side dishes. We’re chatting, and I swallow nervously. The Mama asks how Tom and I met. The thing is, I’ve always been honest with my parents—that’s just who I am. So I tell the whole-hearted truth. I tell them about the Met Gala, and that it originally started as a one-night stand.

Mama laughs, but her laugh is a booming laugh that never stops. “And you think that’s going to last?” Now Papa and Austin are laughing, and the laughing isn’t stopping. It continues on like a track on repeat. I turn my head to look at Tom, and he’s laughing too. “That’s what I said!” He joins in, and I’m surrounded by everyone at the table laughing at how much of an idiot I am. Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

I suddenly wake up, drenched in sweat and I grasp for air. It’s dark outside, and Tom is still asleep next to me.

It was just a nightmare. It was just a nightmare, I tell myself. But in all honesty, I’m scared of this coming true.


	3. Chapter 3

I’m not going to lie, as ridiculous as that nightmare was, it scared the living hell out of me. After I had awoken in Tom’s arms drenched in sweat, I laid still, staring at the ceiling. My eyes glazed over, mind swirling with so many thoughts. I was panicking, and that wasn’t like me. I’m not a panicer, I told myself over and over again. No—no I’m not. I’ve never been! But oh god, I was so afraid. I was so afraid of another December 2012. I squeezed my eyes shut as I was brought back to that wretched month—well, more like that wretched year. That was pure insanity. Oh, _I knew places_ thanks to all that happened. I knew places so deep, so dark, none of you could even imagine.

And poor Tom—the last thing he needed was his own December 2012. I couldn’t pull him into the deep darkness that would come. He doesn’t deserve that. I opened my eyes again, turning my head to the side. Tom was asleep, facing me with his eyes shut. His mouth was slightly open, and his breathing was so calm. His breath was warm, hitting the nape of my neck. I was lying on my side as I gazed at him. I let one of my hands move slowly to his cheek, the back of it grazing his cheekbone. I could feel all my love for him swell up in my heart. _No, I won’t let another December happened. And even if it does, it won’t drive a wedge between us—not this time, damn it._ I told myself this before dropping my hand back down, sucking in a breath. I was determined. My determination overpowered my panicking, drowning it out completely. And Lord knows when I’m determined I’ll get my damn way for sure. My eyes glanced over to the alarm clock on our nightstand that read 12:57. We had gone to bed for a nap some time around 12 PM, and we still had the rest of the day lying ahead of us.

As much as I wanted to keep lying here, with Tom holding onto my waist tight—where I felt safe and sound—I wanted to get right to business so this wouldn’t bother me for the rest of the day. Slowly but surely, I snaked out of Tom’s arms without waking him up. He was such a light sleeper, so doing this was always a constant struggle for me—90% of the time he would wake up and I’d fail anyway. This time, though, I sure did get lucky.

Because I knew that paparazzi guy knew where our room was, I made sure not to lazily through on a robe and step outside in that. That would be far too reckless. I got out of bed, naked and feeling the cool tile beneath my bare feet as I walked to our walk-in-closet. I grabbed a sky-blue bikini that had an adorable starfish pattern on it. The bottoms rested on my hips and weren’t high-waist like I usually went for. I threw on a coral beach dress on top that was pretty short and came down to my mid-thigh. It was a spaghetti strap, while my bikini top was the traditional halter style. I grabbed my sunglasses and cute, big floppy straw hat—you know, the kind you’d see people wearing at the beach. It was plain, but had a nice coral band wrapped on the top of it. Pretty, simple, and beachy—just my thing!

I walked out of the closet and came to where my flip-flops were, placing those on and grabbing my cell phone. I slipped in and out of the sliding doors carefully, making it outside without waking up Tom thankfully. My eyes flickered about like a fox looking for the hound dog that was hunting it for that paparazzi guy, and in case he brought any other paparazzi members with him. Just like I expected, he was still here, and had called in some of his fellow paparazzi buddies. I rolled my eyes and scoffed—I knew that would happen. It’d only be a matter of time before we would be swarmed by paparazzi. I knew that we would have to make our leave from this island and back to the states or London within the next two days because of this.

I walked towards the beach, plopping myself down on the sand once I got a good distance away from the incoming waves. My raised my legs half way up to my chest, feet in the sand as I wiggled my toes. I glanced down to my phone and went to the exact person I needed to talk to: my mother.

The phone started ringing, and ringing, and…ringing. Usually ringing didn’t bother me, but this time it felt like the ringing was dragging on and would never stop—it felt like it would ring on infinitely. Was I really so nervous about telling Mama?

I was welcomed with her familiar, “Taylor, honey, how are you, baby girl?” greeting she always gave me when I called. I couldn’t help but smile as I kept wiggling my toes in the sand, loving the feeling of it on my skin. I let out a small giggle as always before replying, “I’m doing great, Mom. How about you?”

“Oh you know, the usual. So tell me, what’s going on with you?” Her voice and words were implying that something was up, because it sure wasn’t like me to call home while on vacation unless something big was going on in my life.

I cleared my throat nervously before I swallowed. “Haha…” I laughed shakily and sighed. “Mom, I have something important to tell you and dad. And I want the two of you to find out this way before it gets out in the tabloids soon.”

“Let me get your father and I’ll put you on speaker. Just wait a moment.” I heard Mama call for dad nice and loud, and heard him in the background saying, “I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” as he laughed. Once he got to Mama’s side she put my on speaker and I heard Dad say, “Your mom’s gotta learn to lower down her voice when she calls for me. She acts like I’m already deaf!” He laughed, teasing my mom. “Oh quit it, you! I keep telling you that you need to get those ears of yours checked out. You’re either going deaf or your skull is too thick,” Mama teased him back, and they both erupted into laughter. Mama cut their joking off short to get back to business. “So Taylor was telling me she was something important to tell the two of us.”

“Go on, baby girl, what is it?” Dad asked me. “You know you can tell your mom and I anything.”

“I know, dad, I know.” I gave an uneasy small smile before it faded. “There’s been a development in my love life, actually…” I began.

“Ooh!” I heard them both go at the same time. “Whose the lucky man?” Mama asked sweetly, already interested. However, my dad’s reaction was the polar opposite of excitement. “Alright, Tay, tell us his name. I’d like to at least know it before I have to get my shotgun out and shoot him once he breaks my poor girl’s heart,” He was partially teasing, but at the same time he was being serious. Dad had seen how much my heart has been torn since I was in high school, and has been there for me through it all. I don’t know if I’d be whole again if it wasn’t for Dad.

“Oh, stop it you two!” I giggled. “His name is Tom.” I paused—should I add on his last name? Of course—my parents probably already knew he was a celebrity. It was impossible for me to date someone regular now, as much as I kind of wanted a regular life again. “Tom Hiddleston. He’s British and an actor. Actually, you probably would know who he is. He played as Loki in _Thor, The Avengers,_ and _Thor 2: Dark World_.”

“Hmm…actually I don’t know who he is. We’ll have to look him up, I suppose then. But that doesn’t matter,” My dad said. “How long have you two been dating?”

“That’s the thing…” I gulped. “We started seeing each other after we met at the Met Gala in 2015. So we’ve been together for 6 months now, and it’s official, but no one knows aside from our really close friends. It’s just…the two of us have been wanting to keep it on the down-low for just a couple of more months before going public because we don’t want the backlash to start just yet, ya know? What, with his fangirls and all, and then the media would be all over my back. I just didn’t want another—“

“Taylor,” Mama cut me off and I grew silent, mouth closing. My eyes glazed over as I looked at the waves rolling in calmly. “I know what you don’t want to happen again. We both don’t want that to happen again. It destroyed you last time.” Mom took a break before dad chimed in with some hesitation. “So…wants going on for you to share now?” They both knew something big had to be going on for me to be sharing this earlier than planned.

“The paparazzi—they found us while on vacation,” I chuckled, shaking my head. “I mean, only one guy did. The hotel guaranteed us we wouldn’t be found out and that they’d be able to keep the paparazzi out, but they weren’t able to live up to their promise. He probably took thousands of photos of us this morning, alone. I’m outside now, and he’s already called in his buddies who are photographing me as we speak.” I lift my head up, narrowing my eyes at them behind my large sunglasses. That’s when I throw my arm in the air and purse my lips so my body language reads, “What the fuck? You’re so pathetic!” I’m so tired of their unnecessary drama as it is.

I hear both mom and dad sigh aloud. They’re on the same wavelength that I’m on. “Whatever comes next, don’t let it do what it did to you like last time, Taylor.” Dad says. “Forget all that they’re going to say about you—all of the stupid photoshopping that’ll happen like they do nowadays.”

“I know. I will.” I say, determined. My hand is in the sand, and it curls up into a fist. My eyes are set on the sea, and I feel the sand slipping out between the cracks of my curled up fingers. “I know.”

“Well, when will we be meeting the boy then?” Mom chimes in happily, trying to spin the situation to be positive.

“How about in three days?” I recommend with a smile on my face. I know my parents, and they know me—they know I usually have a good judgment with men, and they know now that I’m 25 that I especially do. They’ve always known my head has been on my shoulders, so they trust my choice with whom I’m currently dating. “We’ll fly home to Nashville, and I’ll bring him over so he can spend a couple of days with us so you can really get to know him.” I suggest.

“Well, we don’t have anything big planned, so it sounds like a plan!” Mama states. I can imagine her glancing at my father because now he, too, adds in, “Looking forward to meeting the guy. But I’ll make sure that you two stay in _separate rooms_ ,” He emphasizes. I laugh and nod my head, “Okay, okay. You don’t have to worry about that, Dad.”

I’m so into our conversation that I don’t even realize, or sense a now awake Tom creeping up behind me. “We’ll be seeing you soon, then, mom and dad. I lo--” Our conversation is just about to end when, suddenly, a chill runs down my spine as my back is met with the cold skin of Tom’s toned chest. His strong and long arms wrap around my petite waist and draw me in close. He lifts me up out of the sand in the process and picks me up so my feet are off the ground now. My eyes are nearly popping out of my head as I scream and squirm, barely holding onto my phone as I’m clawing at him playfully. “Tom, oh my god!” I’m laughing, turning my head back. He has the biggest grin on his face as he leans in and kisses my cheek. “You got up without me,” Tom teases, “It’s only right that I get to frighten you,” He kisses my lips now. He places me back down so I’m standing and out of his arms, and I put my phone back up to my ear.

I let out a laugh and apologize. “Sorry—Tom just woke up and decided to scare the hell out of me,” I grin and jab him in the chest playfully with my hand that’s rolled up in a fist, of course doing no damage to his incredibly toned body. He only grabs my wrist after that, pulling me in against his chest. His chest rumbles now as he dips his head down and says loud enough that my parents can hear, “And whom are you speaking to, darling? 

I can hear my mom gasp—she’s always been a softie for British accents like I have. “Taylor, you didn’t mention how great of a voice he has! Or that he’s a gentleman,” Mom teased. I look into Tom’s eyes only to feel the heat rise to my cheeks, and I’m blushing furiously now. “Mom!” I laugh before biting down on my bottom lip, trying not to smile. Tom’s head is so close to mine that he hears my mother’s reaction and chuckles himself. “How could I not be? You have the loveliest daughter, may I say.” Tom takes off my sunglasses, tossing them to the side, and I don’t even care. His green eyes are on mine, and I can feel them staring into the depths of my soul as I look back at him. My eyes are wide and I look like an innocent schoolgirl with a wild crush. My face is completely flushed, and my hair a mess. “Taylor is the most beautiful, ravishing, and intelligent woman I have ever met and laid eyes upon…” Tom’s soft voice trails off. His hand reaches up and holds the side of my face while his thumb is brushing against my cheekbone. I relish in his touch, and in the look that those gorgeous eyes are giving me.

My mother laughs, and of course there’s no response from my dad. “Well, we’re looking forward to meeting you soon, Tom. Have a wonderful time on the rest of your vacation. Love you, Taylor!” That’s when I finally hear my dad and he says, “If you crush my baby girl’s heart, you better watch out because I’ll be coming for you. Take care of Taylor!” I hear my mom say, “Oh hush, you! Let them be. You know Tay—“ and they hang up. I put my phone down and away from my ear, not breaking eye contact away from Tom. He is still gazing at me, thumb still against my cheek.

My blushing intensifies and I bite down on my lower lip. “Sorry about them,” I chuckle lightly. “My parents—they mean well,” I reassure him. “Especially my dad.”

Tom licks his lips, smiling at me. “I quite like them already. And if they were able to make, and raise someone as wonderful as you, I’m sure I’ll get alone just fine with them,” He assures me. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me in near, taking my lips swiftly in a long and soft kiss. There’s so much tenderness in this one. I press my lips back and I meet him with the same eagerness while being gentle. We’re already past our “honeymoon phase”—yes—but this is just how we are with each other. I love every moment of it. _I love him_.

I pull away from him and I can’t stop grinning. Tom pulls his head back, but keeps his arms around me, but they’re looser so I’m able to take a step back. “So we’re meeting them now, huh?” He raises a brow out of curiosity. “And you didn’t even ask for my permission,” He teases.

“Permission? Ha!” I laugh. “You’re my _boyfriend_ , so of course you have to do _every single thing_ I demand,” I tease the hell out of him.

Tom purrs in response, smirking. “Your wish is my command, love,” He states, and I can tell their a sexual implication behind his words. I can’t help but smirk back and send him a wink. “Now that’s how I like my men,” I giggle.

“So when will we be meeting your parents then?” He questions, getting back to the serious conversation. “Well, with there being more paparazzi already coming out thanks to what happened this morning,” I notion towards the new members that have joined whose cameras are flashing wildly because of how intimate Tom and I are being, “I figure we would be leaving by tomorrow night and flying straight to Nashville. So we’ll be visiting them Thursday and Friday,” I state.

Tom glances over to the paparazzi that have joined the one guy that was out there this morning. He lifts a hand up and pinches his nose in irritation before bringing it back down so both arms are encircled around me. “It’s for the best, as much as I want to keep living in this paradise with you by my side, darling.” Tom brings his eyes back down to me, looking at me with them full of love. “Now there’s one last thing to do, though.”

“And what may that be?” I raise a brow. I mean, I know what we have planned for the rest of our time on the island together, but what could he be possibly referring to?

“Tonight—I’ll need to call my family and let them know, as well. And Taylor, I want you to meet them, as well. Including my father.” Tom and his father—I knew their past. I knew their rough history considering his father never supported him going into acting. I knew how his father might react to me since I’m a music artist, no matter how successful I’ve been.

“Tom,” I say, pressing my lips together. My eyes read determination, and especially dedication to him. “There’s nothing I can’t handle. I love you—and you’re meeting my family. I _want_ to meet your family.” I pull him in closer this time, and encircle my arms around his neck to draw his face in towards mine. My lips go to his ear, and my breath is hitting his skin. Tom shivers in response, naturally.

“The ocean is about to get rough for us. We may have an idea of what lies ahead, but we don’t know how great the waves might be. But I’m in it as long as you are—I’m not letting anything drive a wedge between us.” I say. I turn my head towards him, eyes meeting his. He does the same.

“That’s all I needed to hear. I’d do anything—go through anything, just to be by your side at the end of the day,” Tom tells me softly—quietly. He kisses my forehead softly and slowly, and I sigh and shut my eyes. His lips linger there before he rests the side of his face on my head, and his eyes gaze out at the ocean before they slowly close. He runs one of his hands through my hair, and his other arm is wrapped around my waist and holding me close.

I stop the moment and pull away, wanting to just move on and go back to our fun vacation while we have the chance. “So, what’s next on the list?” I ask excitedly.

“You better get some comfortable clothes on,” Tom says, eyes looking at me up and down. He can’t help but lick his lips before he meets my gaze once more. There’s a flicker of wildness in his eyes for just a moment. “Because we’re going zip lining, my love.”

“OH YEAAAHH!” I erupt in remembrance and excitement. This was the one thing I had been looking forward to the most that we planned out. “I’ll race you back to the room! Whoever loses has to follow ever command of the other for the rest of the day,” I stick my tongue out briefly.

“Ha!” Tom places his hands on his hips, laughing out loud. “Looks like you’ll be at my every beck and call, Tay,” He winks at me. “You don’t know who you’re up against.”

“Just watch me, Hiddleston,” I narrow my eyes at him. “On my mark. 1, 2, 3…and go!”

We both take off like crazy kids towards the room. There’s nothing but sand coming up in the air all around us as we try to run barefoot through the beach. We both have long limbs, and our strides are as long as we can make them. I lose my hat briefly to the wind, and I let out a wild laugh with Tom because we both don’t even care about the hat because we’re more invested in our silly little race—our silly little bet—but our not-so-silly love affair. I can feel the wind whipping through my air and I’m in heaven. I can feel the salt on my lips as we dart back to the room, laughing and grinning at each other without a care in the world—without a care in this moment.

At least for now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note for this chapter:
> 
> "Hey guys! I hope you’re doing well ☺ I just want to let you all know that even though I do have some big things planned up my sleeve for this fanfic, right now I don’t even know where I’m going with these next few chapters coming up. I’m kind of just going with the flow as I write them, so forgive me if they’re crappy because of that. 
> 
> However, just recently I had an anon drop by my ask box on Tumblr telling me how much they’ve enjoyed this fic, and particularly the last chapter. That made me SO happy, and made me feel even more confident about writing this! So I’d like to thank you once more for that positive feedback, anon ☺
> 
> As a small reminder for Tom’s look for this whole fanfic, I’m using Hollow Crown!Tom with his ginger hair an facial hair (that’s my favorite Tom tbh).
> 
> Anyway, I would like to dedicate this chapter to Erika (swiftdisposition13 on Tumblr) for being by my side for over the last 2 years. She’s the first Swiftie friend I’ve ever made on Tumblr, and while everyone else had cliques going on, it was always just Erika and I together—as one. I consider her to be a best friend and like a sister. Even though her and I have our Swiftie Crew that started once Taylor started using Tumblr, Erika is still and will always be my original Swiftie friend. I LOVE YOU, ERIKA, AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS CHAPTER!
> 
> ***WARNING: This chapter is mostly fluff and smut***"

I’m running. I stopped earlier for a second to take my flip flops off, and they’re in one of my hands. My strides are so long, and I can feel the bottom of my feet hitting the sand, and bouncing off with as much power and energy as I can. I’m swinging my arms in return, using both halves of my body to propel me further and faster. For a moment my eyes shut, and I’m breathing in and out through my nose and mouth. I’m soaking in the warm rays o the sun that hit my skin. My short hair is glistening in the sun, as bright as gold itself.

And there’s Tom—my oh-so lovely Tom. His ginger curls are bouncing atop his head as he bounds forward at ease. The sand is barely proving to be a problem with it’s friction and whatnot. Instead, he’s taking such long strides, and his arms are moving in sync. He’s running as though the world is his natural element. I know how much he loves running—oh god, does he love it. Every time he comes back from his morning long distance runs, he can’t shut up about them to me. He enjoys long distance running unlike myself. As Tom is propelling faster and faster, and his strides become impossibly longer, he looks over at me while my eyes are closed. I don’t know this, though. His emerald orbs relish in in the sight of me feeling euphoric. He is taken back, and basks in my natural beauty—every inch of my natural beauty. There’s not an inch of make up on me, but he’s so astounded by me. My hair, bouncing back and forth, the wind blowing it back and out of my face, looks gorgeous to him. The wide smile on my face with my eyes shut and the sun hitting me—my long legs going forward, and me running as if it’s the most natural thing to me is what he loves the most. Tom’s eyes soften and he knows it—he knows he’s in love, and in deep in this very moment.

My eyes open back up, and I turn to look at Tom, finding that he was looking at me. For how long? I have no idea, but I don’t mind. He’s next to me, but is gaining much distance on me. The sun hits them, turning my ocean blue irises into a light sky blue. I’m smiling so big that my cheeks hurt. There are no words between us because there’s no need for me. We find the silence comfortable between each other.

He passes me up fast, and he’s whizzing by. He beats me to the hotel room, coming to a stop. Tom places a hand on the outside wall, panting heavily as he bends over slightly. He’s catching his breath for a moment before he shakes his head, sand flying out of his hair. He straightens his posture, but keeps his hand against the wall, and watches as I’m coming closer. “HA! I told you I’d beat you,” Tom announces nice and loud before he goes back to breathing heavily. Even though he’s beaten me, I’m still running only because I’m enjoying it, and I want to get to him fast. Tom grins as he watches me bound over to him, and I come to a stop in front of him, panting hard. I cough a little and place my hand against my chest, clearing my throat. I keep breathing through my mouth and nose in and out 

“Of course you’d win, Mr. ‘I-go-on-long-runs-every-morning-because-I-love-to,’” I smirk. “You have an extra two inches on me anyway! And you have those long legs—don’t even get me started on those.” There’s a sexual implication in my voice as I make that comment, and my eyes glance down to his long and lean legs, taking them in. I love his legs. Oh God and Tom knows how much I do. I look back up at him, and he has the cockiest look on his face.

“Oh yeah, huh?” Tom licks his lips, moving forward closer to me. Both of us are breathing lightly through our mouths and noses and our breathing is almost back to normal, but not quite yet. He steps closer, backing me up against the outside wall. He presses his body against mine, pinning me there. He raises one arm, pressing the forearm against the wall on one side of my head, leaning against it. His other hand goes to my upper thigh, running up and down against my flesh. “Just how much do you like my legs?” He questions.

I’m trying to bring my breathing back to normal, but now because of him I can’t. We’re both panting a little, our breaths hitting each other since our faces are so close in proximity. My heartbeat quickens, and my eyes are locked with his. “So much. I can’t even put it in words…” I play along.

Tom’s eyes are filled with lust for me, and the same goes for mine. I wasn’t against for a second round today of sex. He has a cheeky smile on his face, and he presses his body a little more against mine. His hand goes up to my heat, and he rubs his fingers against it on the outside of my bikini bottoms.

My breath hitches in my throat, and he watches my reaction on my face. He watches as I’m hiding back the moans that I know will slip out of my mouth, but that I can’t afford to let out thanks to the paparazzi out here. “Thomas,” I whisper both in pleasure and as a warning. I narrow my eyes at him. He knows what I’m trying to tell him.

He drops his hand back down to his side and his smile fades. “I know,” He says.” Tom brings his arm down, as well, but puts he puts my hair behind one of my ears. He leans in and whispers, “But remember—I won our little race, so you have to obey my every command today,” He whispers huskily. “And oh, do I plan on using that against you tonight,” Tom nips at my earlobe before pulling back. He steps away from me so I’m no longer pressed up against the wall by his body. He’s smirking at me before he smiles, watching my reaction.

I lick my lips, watching as he steps back, and I’m smiling. I have a wicked grin on my face in return, and I lean against the wall at ease before I laugh out loud. Tom joins me with laughing because he can’t help it. I toss my head back before I push myself off the wall and walk towards him. I grab his hand, pulling him inside to the room with me. “Now I’m totally anticipating tonight,” I reply back with. We slip into our room through the balcony doors, and Tom shuts them once we’re inside. He closes the curtains, as well, and we begin to get ready for our zip-lining trip.

We get ourselves cleaned up, deciding to take a shower together to save time. Our shower isn’t the stereotypical tiny part-bathtub, part-shower at a usual hotel. It’s a grand shower, with all glass doors and plenty of room. The showerhead is also massive and you can be in any part of the shower and still get water coming down on you. But us showering together isn’t how you think it is—it’s not sexual at all. Well, at least _not at first._ Tom’s ginger hair is flat against his head, and there are drops of water on his facial hair. He towers over me, naked as the water from the showerhead spills onto the both of us. My blonde hair is sticking to my face—Tom moves it out of my face and I smile. I shampoo and condition my hair. Tom grabs his own shampoo, doing the same. He rinses out my hair for me though, and I do the same for him. I grab my bright pink oofa afterwards, putting body wash in it and letting the water from the showerhead run over it. Tom snatches it out of my hands, and I reach out to grab it. Before I can, he’s putting it high above his head and out of my reach. He watches as I jump up and down eagerly, trying to extend my arms as long as possible to grab it. He even gets on his tiptoes for a bit, keeping it out of reach. His eyes are glued to me, and he has a wide smile on his face. “Hey!” I say out of frustration, but I’m laughing. I can’t stop smiling. My eyes are focused on the prize above me, and I’m not even noticing that our bodies are pressed so close together. “Give it back! It’s not fair, Tom!” I say.

“Not fair? How so?” Tom laughs. He lowers it down, and I reach out to grab it only for him to move it rapidly to the side. He’s laughing at me as I lunge after it, and he only moves it to the other side of him. “Stop it!” I’m laughing and I reach again, only he’s much too fast for me. He puts it above his head yet again, and I stop jumping. I take a few steps back away from him and I pout, my bottom lip sticking out. “Please, Tom…” I give him the puppy eyes.

The tiled walls of the shower are a bright blue, and to Tom it only makes my bright eyes jump out more to him. He licks his lips a bit and lowers down the loofah, placing it against his chest. He clenches it with both hands now. “Come here, love,” He beckons for me softly. I step over to him slowly, swaying my hips just a bit. My eyes flicker up to him in anticipation. Tom clears his throat, and uses the loofah for me. He starts using it at my neck, rubbing it softly against my skin, making sure to clean every inch of me. He moves it carefully up and down both my arms, then to my chest. He takes his time with my breasts, and for a moment cups one of them with a hand. He leans down and captures my lips in a sweet kiss. He lets go of my breast, and keeps rubbing the loofah against my skin against my belly. Tom runs his tongue against my lips, and lowers the loofah down to my heat. He has another arm wrapped around my waist, holding me close. He cleans me there, but stops. He pulls away from my body and kiss, letting the water from the shower head run over my body so all the soapy suds on me rinse off. His eyes look at me up and down, filled with lust and love for me. Once I’m rinsed off for now, he steps forward, and that’s when the _real_ fun begins.

Tom licks his lips and takes one, long stride towards me. He wraps his arm around my waist swiftly, pulls me in, and presses my body close against his. But he doesn’t kiss me—not yet, at least. He dips his head down and his now-blue eyes (you know how they’re always changing between blue and green) are looking at me hungrily—I love it. I love when his need for me comes out like this. I bite my lower lip just a little. Tom presses me against him more, and quickly he captures my lips in a kiss. There’s this hungry desire about this kiss, though—as if he needs me as bad as he needs oxygen to breathe. Tom’s other hand comes up, holding my face steadily as I return the kiss with just as much desire for him. The water from the shower is coming down on us, and his hand moves to run through my slick, wet hair. Tom takes this opportunity to press me roughly against one wall of the shower. I feel the cool tile against my back, and the back of my head also presses back as he presses his body impossibly closer against mine. I sigh against his lips. He nudges one of his legs in between mine, and in return I wrap a leg around his hips. Both of my arms wrap around his neck. Tom nibbles on my lower lip, moves a hand to hold my face, while the other goes to my ass and gives a cheek a nice firm squeeze. I moan softly against his lips, and he happily gives my ass cheek another rough squeeze. I run my tongue against his bottom lip, and he happily opens his mouth for me.

We’re becoming much more rough with each other—our desire is completely overtaking us, and I don’t mind one bit. I know he sure doesn’t. Our tongues are battling for domination, and

The hand on my ass moves up and takes a breast in hand, massaging it. I break our kiss to roll my head to the side, moaning out in bliss. His lips go to my cheek, kissing down to my jawline, then to my neck. He kisses every inch of the side of my neck that’s available as he massages that same breast for me. He finds my sweet spot—the spot where my neck and shoulder meet, and focuses there as he multitasks with my breast. Tom sucks at my skin, nibbles lightly, and swirls his tongue. I know within a couple of hours I’ll have a nice, big hickey there just because of this moment. I slip a hand into Tom’s ginger hair, pulling on it lightly in response to the pleasure I’m getting. I can feel myself starting to get wet now. “Tom,” I moan softly. His chest rumbles happily in response, and he kisses up my neck from that spot now. He’s finished giving it attention. He kisses up to my jawline, then leaves a sweet kiss on my cheek. He pulls his head away to look at me, and my eyes are on him. He licks his lips in desire for me. Surprisingly, it wasn’t until now that I noticed that a certain…part of him was nice and hard, pressed against my thigh. I blink my eyes, glancing down. His dick is standing tall and proud, nice and hard pressed up against me. It’s so firm, and I lick my lips. I’m already wet just from him earlier, and now I find myself wanting—no _needing_ Tom more than ever. I glance back up at him, meeting his gaze.

“I can’t keep my hands off of you,” Tom says huskily, wrapping both arms around my body, pressing himself further against me. I feel his hard penis press against my thigh more, and I smirk. I lick my lips before saying, “Don’t take them off of me.” I’m just as hungry as him. He grins wildly because he sees this, moves a hand down, and slaps my ass playfully. My eyes widen and I suck in a breath before laughing. He chuckles, too, before kneading the skin off one of my butt cheeks. “I need you _now,”_ He purrs, quickly capturing my lips in a kiss. Then he plants them against my neck, kissing every inch of my skin.

I bury a hand in his hair again, and my other arm remains wrapped around his neck. I put my lips as close to his ear as possible and whisper, “ _Take me, damn it_.” I know right there and then he’s going to go nuts for me 

Tom pauses his kissing, lifting his head back to look at me. His eyes flicker up and down my body for quick moment before he goes for it. He takes himself in his hand, positions himself at my entrance, and just goes for it. Instead of entering me slow, like he usually does, he rams himself inside of me. I moan out loud, but it comes out more so as a gasp of surprise. I can feel every inch of his long, thick cock inside of me. I can feel him throbbing inside of me, telling me just how much he really does want me. My eyes meet his, and he looks at me with that same, thirsty desire for me. Tom groans out loud, moving himself almost completely out of me before pounding into me yet again. He groans, and I moan with him. “You like that?’ Tom asks before thrusting into me deep and hard again.

“Yes,” I moan a little louder this time. I hold onto him tighter, and he does it again. He’s thrusting into me deep and hard, each time nearly pulling out completely before thrusting completely in. “You’re so tight,” Tom groans again, clenching his jaw. “Faster,” I command, panting a little. Tom happily obliges, quickening his pace. He’s thrusting every inch of him into me hard—fast—and so deep. I’m moaning louder now, eyes rolling into the back of my head. My leg that’s wrapped against him draws him in closer. I want to make sure I have every inch of his thick dick inside of me. I need him _so_ bad.

“Taylor,” Tom groans, thrusting even faster into me. He’s hitting me so hard and fast now. One of his hands goes to my ass again, pushing against it so my body presses against him more so he gets better access. “ _Taylor_ ,” He groans my name louder this time, and he’s giving his thrusts everything.

“Tom, TOM!” I’m echoing his name back louder each time, my voice getting higher pitched. Now I wrap one of my legs around his waist. Tom gets the memo and lifts me up, both of his hands cupping my ass to support me.

Instead of him thrusting, I take this opportunity to bounce up and down as he holds me up. My arms wrap tighter around him for support, and I’m bouncing my body up and down on his cock. “Tom!” I moan, bouncing myself faster. I position myself better so he’s hitting my g-spot now. Tom is groaning even louder, and I can hear his need for me growing impossibly stronger. I’m panting as I keep bouncing up and down, his cock sliding in and out of me faster each time. “TOM!” His dick keeps hitting my g-spot, and I can feel myself about to cum soon.

Tom pins me against the wall, but keeps holding me up. I stop bouncing, and he’s thrusting himself in and out of me uncontrollably. His tip is still hitting my g-spot, faster and faster each time. He’s groaning louder, and clenching his jaw. His eyes are squeezed tight and he’s relishing in the sensations he’s getting. “AH!” I moan, but softer this time. I can feel my walls clench against him, squeeze and wrapping around his dick tighter than before. My vagina makes him moist with my juices, then loosens up. I open eyes slowly, and Tom has stopped thrusting into me, but is still inside of me. “Oh my god,” I sigh, and I’m still panting. But we’re nowhere through finished yet.

Tom lowers me down and slides himself out of me. There’s a smile on his face, happy to see me cum already. I look at him, and I’m still euphoric from cumming just earlier. “We’re not through with you yet,” I say, licking my lips with desire.

That’s all it takes—that’s all it takes for him to dominate me again. Tom takes my body and presses it roughly against one of the glass walls of the shower that’s glazed over with steam. The whole front of my body presses against it—if you were to be on the other side, my breasts and whole front torso would be visible with steam surrounding the rest of the glass. One side of my face is also pressed up against the glass. Both of my hands are against the glass on either side of my head, and I’m waiting for what comes next in much anticipation.

Tom positions himself behind me, and just like earlier, he thrusts into me all at once. I had tightened up after he drew himself out of me, so naturally I’m tight as he does this. And yet again, my eyes widen, and I gasp aloud in joy. He withdraws completely out of me this time, slowly, before all at once filling me up with every inch of his thick and long cock. I moan softly as he pounds into me. Tom wraps his arms around my waist, pushing himself impossibly more inside of me. He draws himself out completely out of my pussy again. I groan in protest. “Don’t stop,” I pant out, begging him. “Oh yeah?” Tom questions eagerly, pounding into me again. “Ah!” I moan out loud, my toes curling up as every inch of me is filled with pleasure. “Yes!” I say back eagerly in response. “Don’t stop,” I repeat again.

Now Tom begins to pound in and out of me, faster and faster—deeper and deeper. As he does so, I’m moaning and can’t stop. He leans forward, still entering in and out of me, and presses his lips against my upper back. Then to my neck, focusing on my sweet spot again, sucking and swirling his tongue. My eyes roll back in my head as I squeeze them tight. I’m panting and so is he, and he’s groaning every now and then. “Taylor,” I hear him moan as he gives me on particular, hard and deep thrust, his hot breath hitting my ear. “Tom!” I moan loudly in response, gasping aloud in ecstasy. His chest rumbles as he purrs into my ear, nipping at my earlobe. “Tom!” I moan aloud again, huffing and panting. He’s pounding into me so hard, I can’t take it 

But now he flips me so I’m facing him, still inside of me, and presses both my hands on either side of my head. He squeezes them with his, intertwining our fingers. Tom looks at me, entering in and out of me roughly. My breathing is fast, and my eyes still closed. “Look at me,” He urges softly. I open my eyes, but only halfway. He is overtaking me with so much pleasure.

Tom dips his head down and captures one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking on it gently. My eyes shut tight again, my moans growing higher-pitched and louder in response. He gives me yet another nice, deep and hard thrust to change up the tempo a bit before going fast again. He lets go of my nipple, bringing his head back up to my level. I feel his heavy breathing on my face because he’s panting as well, and my eyes open back up, but all the way this time.

“Ah!” I moan as I feel him hit my g-spot with yet another deep and hard thrust. He goes back to thrusting in and out faster now, hitting my g-spot repeatedly. My moans grow louder, and his thrusts are now rougher. Tom clenches his jaw, groaning, fighting against the urge to shut his eyes. “I want to,” He says in between breaths, “watch you cum.” I don’t find it strange at all—it’s not the first time he’s done this.

I nod my head slowly while I pant. He’s hitting my g-spot over and over again—he’s being so relentless I fucking love it. “Tom—Tom!” I moan, and I know I’m going to cum again soon.

Tom grins in response as a bit of pre-cum comes out of him. He’s about to hit his climax, too. He’s thrusting in and out still, and then I hear my name slip out of his mouth, “Taylor!” He groans loudly now.

I hit my climax all at once, echoing his name. Once more, my pussy tightens around his cock, squeezing it and covering him with all of my juices. That’s when he cums himself. “ _TAYLOR!”_ He groans my name one last time, thrusting into me. I can feel his seed spilling out inside of me as I loosen up around his cock, and I lay my head back against the glass behind me. He’s pumping himself in and out of my slowly, letting the rest of his seed come into me. Tom lowers his head, pressing his forehead against my shoulder as he catches his breath. His thrusts slow down completely and stop as the last of his cum spills out. We’re like this in this moment. I slide our hands down, our fingers still intertwined, but they’re now at our sides. My arms suddenly feel infinitely better. I am just basking in the calmness and euphoria that is washing over me now. Tom slides out of me slowly, and presses his body against mine again. We’re both catching our breath as he lifts his head up, pressing his forehead against mine. He stares into my depths of my eyes, as do I with his. We’re done making love—no, that wasn’t even making love. That was fucking (yes, which we do every now and then also; it’s not all gooey romance between us). “Oh my goodness…” I sigh aloud, trapped in his eyes. I’m so deeply in love with him as it is.

“I think....that was the best sex we’ve had by far…” Tom says, waiting to see a reaction. The first thing I do is laugh out loud, causing for him to grin and chuckle. Of course that was the first thing to come out of his mouth. I’m laughing and I turn my head to the side briefly before turning back, his forehead resting against mine as I stop laughing. I lick my lips, and I can feel how sore my cheeks are from all the smiling I’ve been doing as of late thanks to him. “Oh, that tops the first time we fucked for sure,” I wink, and he bursts out laughing himself.

Tom lets go of my hands and steps back from me. He runs his hands through his wet hair, shaking his head back at me. The water is still running, and we both know we have to rinse ourselves off now. “You know, we still have to go zip-lining. But now we’re even more behind than we were before,” He points out.

I sigh aloud, pressing my lips together. “I know.” I purse my lips in thought. I press against the glass and push myself off of it. “Why don’t we just stay inside—make it a day in? We can still do all we have planned tomorrow,” I suggest with a shrug of my shoulders. I approach him, taking his hands back into mine. “We can lay in bed together…get some pay-per-view,” I press one of his hands to my lips. “Please?” I murmur against his skin.

Tom looks at me, and he’s trying so hard to fight the smile his lips are trying to curl into. He finally lets the smile win, and he laughs lightly. “Just for you,” He says, pulling me in. We’re both under the running water, letting it wash over us. “And because how could I ever be against spending a day in bed with you, darling?” He adds in more of his charm, and I’m grinning.

We wash ourselves off before stepping out of the shower. We grab towels, drying ourselves. I walk naked as day over to the dresser I temporarily unpacked my clothes in. I throw on a mint lace-trim thong, with a black t-shirt bra. I lazily throw on one of Tom’s white t-shirts he gave me, and brush out my hair. Tom simply throws on a pair of gray briefs and combs his hair quickly before climbing into bed.

I join him underneath the sheets, curling up at his side. His arm is wrapped around me, and he turns on the TV. He lies down fully and relaxes, using the pillow to prop himself up. I lay my head on his chest, eyes on the TV as we discuss which movie to watch out of those available. We decide, and immerse ourselves in it.

That’s when my stomach growls so loud we both hear it. I wrap my arms around my torso, blushing because I’m embarrassed as Tom shoots me a look and gives out a booming laugh at my reaction. “Hungry now, are we?” He lifts a brow at me.

“Well, I did work up an appetite after that workout we just had,” I smirk, teasing him back. Tom laughs again before sighing. “Room service it is,” He decides firmly.

We spend the rest of the day pigging out on many different meals we decided to order, and renting movie after movie. It isn’t until late at night, when the only light is the glow from the TV on us, that we drift off to sleep. I drift off, wrapped in Tom’s arms, and our legs entangle. He drifts off with me with the TV still on, and the latest movie we were watching (“Neighbors” to be exact) still playing. But we’re too tired to notice—to wrapped up in each other, and the peace we have for now in our lives.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note for this Chapter:
> 
> "Hey everyone! I’m back with another chapter. There are no major developments in this one, however the plot is moving forward slightly and there are some scenes in this chapter you may want to commit to memory for the future ;) 
> 
> I just want to let you all know that YESTERDAY WAS MY 21ST BIRTHDAY!!! ☺ FINALLY LEGAL (for alcohol lol)! I definitely celebrated to the best of my ability considering it was a Monday night, plus the first day of spring semester at my uni. 
> 
> I’ll try my best to update once to twice a week, as I promised before. However, with my schedule this semester, I’m not sure how frequent updates may be. But I am 100% dedicated to this fic, and I have so many ideas planned that I definitely want you all to be able to read and enjoy. 
> 
> Btw this chapter is kind of on the shorter end just because I wanted to focus on the moment that this chapter kind of revolves around since it’s crucial foundation for what I have planned in the future for this story.
> 
> Hope all is well and that you enjoy this chapter! <3 ☺"

White, fluffy clouds fill up the sky. The blue is so intense that it captures me. My head shakes a little as I rest it against the inside of the plane, right next to the window. My eyes are glued to the sky that we’re flying through, on the way back to Nashville. I let out a small sigh, relaxing and slinking back into my chair.

Tom is in the seat next to me, struggling to get comfortable and to relax. I can sense it just from the aura radiating out of him—he’s tense. He’s so tense, and slightly stressed about our situation 

I flashback to when we left the hotel early this morning. We were just trying to avoid being caught at the airport. I remember holding Tom’s hand, squeezing it on and off anxiously as we rode the hotel shuttle to the airport at 6 A.M. When we were pulling up to get out, I was met with one of my fears—swarms of paparazzi everywhere outside the airport, cameras already flashing insanely. They’re everywhere—even inside the airport before the TSA checkpoint. We both wore dark sunglasses and ran out of our hotel shuttle to inside the airport as fast as we could. I’m in front, pulling Tom along as he treads closely behind me, hot breath on the back of my neck. We struggled even getting a path cleared for us with the swarms of paparazzi members harassing us with their cameras and shouts of, “Taylor, is Tom your new man?!”, “How long with this relationship last?!”, and worst of all, “Taylor and Tom—how do you think your fans will react? How long until you start writing songs about Tom?”

Ouch. What a jab to the chest! As that last remarked was shouted outside, the sliding doors opened for Tom and I to get into the airport. There were impossibly more members there, considering it was legal since they weren’t beyond TSA. My palms were growing sweaty, and I could feel Tom’s were too. I turned my head to look at him as we fought our way through the crowds of flashing cameras, needing to see the look on his face—needing to see what he was feeling, and if he was trying to tell me anything through the chaos around us.

He turned his head to look at me, and I could see the corners of his lips turn down just slightly before he pressed them together to form a firm line. I opened my mouth slightly, wanting to say something, but I knew whatever would come out would end up in the tabloids. I was uneasy. It was written all over my face—my body. Tom let go of my hand, and for a second I panicked. Maybe it was the December me that caused me to panic—I’m not sure. But I did. And my jaw dropped.

But Tom slicked his arm around my shoulders. He drew me in close, pulling me against his chest. He leaned into my ear and murmured, “It’s just us. They’re not here, love. Just think—it’s just us.” Tom said it in the softest, loveliest voice. I can’t put my finger on it—it’s so difficult to explain. His tone was low, and oh-so sweet. He was trustworthy and reassuring. His breath and British accent, on top of the situation, only made me want to faint. I glanced up at him, nodding my head. He kept his arm around me and we made our way through the people behind the flashing cameras over to the TSA checkpoint. I barely managed to swallow after he told me that. I remember it. I remember it all.

My hand is next to Tom’s but not touching. I’m snapped back to reality as Tom barely reaches his hand over, first intertwining our pinkies together. I turn my head, away from the window, and to him. He’s glancing down at first as his large pinky holds my small one in comparison. Tom looks back up at me now that he knows he has my attention, and then takes my hand in his, intertwining all of our fingers together. Our hands rest there, joined together, in between our seats. _Just grab my hand and don’t ever drop it, my love._

I find that his eyes are the same shade as the perfect blue sky that I was just gazing at. The corners of my lips turn up into a slight smile, as do his in return. But our smiles quickly fade, and we are met with matching solemn looks. “What’s going to happen?” I ask softly.

“Well, I can imagine by now the pictures and news are already circulating around the news and web like wildfire. Most likely yours and my fans a—“

“No, no, I don’t mean _that_ ,” I cut him off. He looks at me with a deadpan expression. “I mean— _us_ , in actuality. Because of the things people are going to say, and are g—“

Now _he_ cuts _me_ off. “Taylor, darling,” Tom tells me, shooting me a look that matches his slightly condescending tone.

I laugh slightly, shaking my head in return. But I don’t say anything, because I want to hear what he has to say.

He squeezes my hand before letting it go. Tom lifts up the armrest that is in between us, and leans into me. His hands go on both sides of my face—he presses his forehead against us. “It’s just us, love. Just us.” One of his thumbs is rubbing circles into my skin. “Just think about that.” He envelops me in his arms, and my head is resting on his shoulder. I feel numb. Tom is trembling a little—even though his masked demeanor, I know he’s just as scared as I am. We both know the consequences of our love that will be coming soon _. “_ _The ocean is about to get rough for us. We may have an idea of what lies ahead, but we don’t know how great the waves might be. But I’m in it as long as you are—I’m not letting anything drive a wedge between us,”_ He states. And I remember—I remember telling him this just the other day on the beach. He remembered, let alone memorized and repeated what I had said and barley remembered until this moment. And I feel so damn _numb._

“But it’s just us, Taylor. It’s just us. Remember that,” Tom concludes. I can feel his fingers drumming against my back. My breath hitches in my throat, and it takes my all to hold back the tears I can feel surfacing. But I do. I hold them back for him, because he’s holding back all of his unsettling fears and emotions for my sake—my _sanity_.

I feel Tom’s lips against my cheek, and he presses them there long and hard. He murmurs against my skin, “I love you,” before kissing them to my cheek once more.

I draw myself back from his embrace, hands coming to his face. His arms are wrapped loosely around my waist and I give him a genuine smile. “I love you too,” I say before I lean in, giving him a kiss.

It’s not our usual kisses. This is different. It’s us, clinging on to what we have now before we feel the flames. It’s us, and our genuine love for one another. But most importantly, it’s us— _just us._

I commit this to memory, memorizing every detail so I can save this for one of our horrendous rainy days that is coming soon.

Its hours later, and the plane lands. We get off, get our bags and all, and I call my parents to hunt them down. My mom picks up and I talk to her, trying to find her and dad since they’re our ride home anyway. I hear her voice on the phone and echo in real life behind me, “Turn around, Taylor!”

I whip my head around, and my jaw drops before turning into the biggest smile of all. I drop my belongings and run over to my mom and dad, squeezing them tight. They’re murmuring about how much they love and missed me—how happy they are to have me visiting for now.

I let go, and turn to look at Tom whose standing with his backpack on, both hands in his pockets, with our suitcases and bags on the floor beside him. There’s a smile on his face, and I can tell he had been basking in the love that my family shares for one another—for me—for the love I share for them.

“Tom!” I beckon for him to come join us.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note for this chapter:
> 
> "So I’m gonna do some major self promotion now lol. If you don’t already know, I published a new Hiddleswift fanfic entitled “Assassin” and will be updating it and will continue to update this fanfic at the same time. Feel free to read if it interests you! You know where to find it ;) 
> 
> P.S. The next chapter is when things are just about to start to go down for their relationship. Naturally I have to leave you at a cliffhanger for the next chapter ;)"

And he comes to me. He picks up our bags, but I meet him halfway because I don’t want him carrying everything now. I take my luggage and carry-on from him, and we walk side-by-side to my parents. Now, for being someone whose 6’0”, naturally my parents are tall. Actually, the three of us have pretty much the same height. But Tom—even though he’s only got a couple of inches on us—seems to make my parents be taken back by the mere fact that he’s taller than me. They all know that it’s difficult finding a man that’s taller than me.

Tom clears his throat, placing his belongings down on the ground before fixing his red plaid shirt out of pure nervousness. The poor guy! My dad is glaring at him like he’s looking into his soul. I feel for him, but I can’t help but lightly giggle to myself at the scene.

“Mom—Dad—This is Tom,” I introduce them, and Tom extends his hand forward eagerly to shake my father’s hand. I glance down, and I can slightly see his forearm trembling, and that he’s trying his best to keep his composure on his face. But suddenly all of that anxiety disappears from him—he stops trembling so lightly, and I can see him become the confident Tom I know so well.

My dad takes his hand, and Tom gives him a nice and firm handshake. My father seems pleased at this on his face, and I can’t help but smile as I watch Tom flash my dad one of his giant, Golden Retriever type of smiles. He lets go and turns to my mother, extending his hand out for a handshake from her now.

But mom doesn’t shake his hand—oh no, that’s nothing like her! “C’m here, Tom,” Andrea opens her arms reaching forward to give Tom a brief and friendly hug. “You’re part of the family now.” And they hug, and Tom’s smile somehow grows bigger as he chuckles aloud.

“I appreciate that, Mrs. Swift,” He tells her as the pull away.

“Oh, now, don’t call me that. It makes me feel old!” My mom waves him off. “Just call me Andrea,” She tells him. “Now let me help you out there,” Andrea reaches forward to take one of Tom’s bags off his shoulders.

On the other hand, my father comes over and takes one of my bags for me, and I thank him. He wraps his arm around me briefly, kissing me on the forehead. “We missed you, Tay,” He says.

“I missed you guys, too,” I murmur as my dad lets me go. We walk with Tom and I sandwiched between mom and dad, with mom on Tom’s side and dad on mine.

We go to the car they brought, and drive home—to the home my parents moved to in Nashville when we moved from our Christmas Tree Farm in Pennsylvania because they were willing to sacrifice so much for me to achieve my dreams. We all talk, and dad is being his typical self—his typical, dry sarcastic self. Luckily, that’s how Tom and I always are, and Tom is at ease, feeling like himself. Him and I sit in the back of the car, and he holds my hand discreetly in between us.

Once we get home, we go inside and my dad shows Tom to the guest room, lecturing him about how if he catches him in my room at night he’ll make sure to kill him. I laugh, and Tom hardly laughs at all because he feels so uneasy, and I tell dad to knock it off and tell Tom he’s just kidding. But we all know my dad is somewhat serious. 

They leave us to get settled in, and Tom helps me drop my bags off in my room—the very room I’ve had since I was 14. It’s still the same as it was from when I was in high school. Old photos on the walls—my bed with it’s wooden frame and multicolored, quilt comforter—the canopy around my bed—and even the painted portrait of me from when I was much younger. It’s all still there and completely untouched.

Tom comes in, eyes flickering about my room, and he places my suitcase on the ground beside my bed, and I place my backpack on one of the chairs in my room. I look over at him, trying to figure out what’s going through his mind. There are so many goofy pictures of Abigail and I all over my ways, but he already knows that side of me.

I lean against the desk in my room, waiting, and he turns his head to look at me. “How long have you had this room?” He asks.

“Since I was fourteen,” I say. I haven’t told him nearly all of my background, and he hasn’t told me all of this. “My parents uprooted them family from our Christmas Tree Farm in Pennsylvania just to move out here so I could start my music career,” I say, eyes slipping away. “They’ve sacrificed so much for me.”

Tom purses his lips and walks over to me. He takes my hands in his, squeezing them. He raises them up so they’re in between our chests. My eyes meet his once more. They’re stern, yet there’s so much light and love within them.

“You know you’re a phenomenal singer, Taylor. It was worth it for them to do that. If they didn’t think it was, they wouldn’t have even moved all of you out to Nashville. If you weren’t, you won’t be where you’re at today,” He says and squeeze her hands again. “I’m so happy to be a guest at your wonderful home, Taylor,” Tom tells me with a smile.

“I know,” I say and my face is illuminated with a small smile for Tom “I just want to give back to everyone. I owe my fans—my family and friends—so much for what they’ve done for me.” I can’t help but bite down on my bottom lip for this next part, “Even you, and how much you’ve been able to do for my heart.” It’s thanks to Tom that I’ve been able to warm up more—not be so afraid of love.

Tom’s smile widens and he captures my lips in a brief kiss before my mother suddenly appears in the doorway and clears her throat to interrupt us. “Dinner is ready in the dining room,” She says. “Get a move on, you two lovebirds,” Andrea teases us before she leaves.

I shutter, and Tom bounces backwards, both of us looking like deer in headlights. Once Mom left, we both turn our heads and look to each other, and we burst out laughing at the look on our faces. We’re laughing so hard we’re crying and Tom captures me in his arms, resting his head on top of mine. He rocks me back and forth, and go with his motions. Our laughing dies down, and he pulls away, taking my hand and leading me out of my room.

Good God, I’m so in love with him.

We walk to the dining room, finding Scott and Andrea already sitting at the table, plates set up and the food already sitting in the middle ready to be passed around. The table is set up so we’re all sitting at one end together—Scott at the head of the table, myself to his right, Andrea to his left, and Tom beside me.

Tom and I take our seats, and I look over to Dad, then Mom. Scott clears his throat, and all of our heads are turned in his direction. “Let’s do a small prayer of thanks before we dig in.” Dad grabs my hand and Mom’s. I grab Tom’s once again.

I close my eyes, and I’m not sure if Tom is. I don’t even know if he’s religious or not—hell, I’m not even sure if I am or not. I’m just so use to this routine in our family.

My Dad does the prayer, thanking God for the food he’s blessed us with and the fortune, and even adds on to thank God for having Tom here with us. I feel my cheeks light up, and I’m positive that my face is bright red. He finishes with an “amen” and I turn my head very briefly to look at Tom, who meets my gaze, and his face is just as red as mine. I stifle a laugh by biting down on my bottom lip before turning my head back to my parents. 

We’re all looking at each other, and I’m expecting Dad to make the first move with the food. But to my surprise, Tom’s voice breaks the silence, and he places his hands together and rubs them as he says, “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s dig in! At least before the food grows cold,” He smiles at my parents, and both of them nod in approval.

He reaches forward and grabs one of the bowls of food, and my Dad takes another, so we can get all of the food passed around faster.

Soon enough, we’ve all helped ourselves and are eating away at our food.

After Tom takes his first bite of the steak my dad prepared and swallows after chewing, he says, “Wow,” And straightens his posture, hands going to his lap. “May I ask who the chef was for tonight?”

Andrea and Scott look at each other and smile before answering Tom, “It was the both of us. We’re a team, after all,” Scott answers with.

“Well, I have to say the food is amazing,” He says. “I thought both chefs would like to know that,” And he flashes a charming smile their way.

Is that a blush I see on my mom’s cheeks? Oh my god! I hold back my laughter and my mom is collecting herself. “Why thank you,” She states. “So Tom, tell us about yourself,” She says.

Tom is in the midst of another bite of his food, and I look over to him. His eyes barely meet mine for a second and I’m eating my food slowly, mostly wanting to observe his interaction with my parents. I sit back in my chair comfortably.

He swallows his food and chuckles slightly, “Hmm…well where do I begin…” He murmurs, not quite to himself but it’s loud enough for us all to here. “Ah! Well, I love to read literature. I’m quite a big fan of Shakespeare, actually,” Tom shares.

And the night continues on like this—sharing. And before my eyes I witness a stiff Tom transform into the one I know oh so well and fell for that very first night at the Met Gala. He’s a giant fanboy as he goes on and on about Shakespeare. His whole entire face lights up as he talks about his humanitarian work that he’s done in Africa for UNICEF. He even talks about his friends, whom I haven’t quite all met yet, and the most hilarious stories that cause my parents to erupt into laughter.

He’s himself, and that’s all that really matters. 

* * *

 

After dinner, and the dishes are done, we all unwind the night together by putting on a movie in the family room. Tom and I are on the same couch, while my parents are on our other one, but we’re not super-coupley. We both know where to draw the line in front of family.

At the end of the night, we all say good night to each other, and Dad makes sure to tease Tom in half-seriousness about staying in his room and not sneaking off to mine. “I hear every small noise that goes on this house. If you don’t think you’ll be caught, that’s where you’re wrong,” Scott warns him with a straight face, before smiling and laughing to brighten the scene.

But that’s where the fun begins.

I slip into my room and change into my pajamas—just some simple, loose silk pants with a random big shirt I threw on. I’m sitting in my bed on my laptop, on Tumblr. It’s 1 AM and I can’t fall asleep; I’m not sure why.

I hear my door creak open, and my head turns in that direction. I wrinkle my forehead in confusion before Tom emerges, slowly shutting the door behind him. He’s in his blue, plaid pajama bottoms with a tight gray t-shirt on top. Every detail of his defined and toned chest is visible. His lips are pursed as his eyes meet mine. He looks so innocent—so innocent and cute, just like a schoolboy.

“Well, who do we have here?” I eye him and smirk. “Weren’t my dad’s warnings enough to keep you away?” I say quietly, so hopefully my dad won’t pick up on our voices. 

Tom licks his lips before saying, “Nothing can keep me away from you, darling,” He says. He’s smiling, and walks over to my bed, sitting beside me now. “What are you doing on your computer so late at night?” He says, eyes on me.

“On Tumblr,” I admit, turning my laptop screen towards him. On my dashboard are my fans posts of gifs and text posts about me. I had gone on a liking spree tonight, so there are even videos and posts of them freaking out over me following some of them. “I know how much you avoid going online.”

Tom looks at my screen out of curiosity. “Do you mind?” He asks, in reference to if he can go through my dashboard. “Be my guest,” I tell him, pushing my laptop towards him. He’s going down and through the posts. His eyes are illuminated by the screen, and his eyes are so blue—not like their usual green. I think that’s one of my favorite physical features of his—his eyes that continually transition between different shades of green and blue. My eyes are on him before I scoot over closer to him. I rest my cheek against his shoulder, looking onto the screen.

“Oh my god,” He laughs, at what’s on the screen: it’s a video of a little girl singing “Bad Blood” dressed up in costume. “Oh my god your fans are so great,” Tom admits.

“I know. Tell me about it,” I smile and lift my head off his shoulder, just sitting casually beside him.

He blinks in shock, though, as he sees his face all over my dashboard, with the most…interesting captions, to put it in the best way. “What?? Have you been stalking me now, Taylor?” Tom turns his head to me, grinning.

“You know that’s what I’m best at, Tom,” I tease him. “I stalk all the guys I plan on being with beforehand,” And he barely pushes the side of my arm in response. “Oh stop it, you!” Tom is laughing, and is forced to keep the volume of his laugh down so my parents don’t hear us.

I roll my eyes before my smile fades. “I follow a few people on Tumblr who are big fans of yours, actually.” I shrug my shoulders. “At least I have the real deal in front of me,” I smile again.

“C’mere,” Tom wraps his arm around my waist, drawing me in near. He closes my laptop and puts it on my nightstand. He lies down on my bed on his back, drawing me down with him. I’m lying on my side, curled up against him, my head on his chest. I can hear his rapid beating heart.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I tell him, turning my head to look up at him. “I don’t know why, but I couldn’t sleep, so that’s why I was on my laptop.”

Tom looks down at me before sighing. “That’s why I came to your room. I couldn’t sleep either—not without you next to me, wrapped in my arms, in bed.” He admits.

“I think that’s why I couldn’t sleep either,” I admit, and I rest one of my hands on his chest, just above his heart. “But I’m here now,” I say.

“Yes,” Tom says before turning on his side, facing me. His head is level with mine, and our eyes meet perfectly. He wraps his arms around me and draws me in closer. “Now, let’s get some sleep.”

“Okay,” I say and shut my eyes. But that’s when I remember—aw, shit, the lights! I groan in frustration and reopen my eyes, pouting my lips a bit. “Hmm?” Tom questions.

“The lights,” I remember. I’m far too lazy to get up and turn them off. 

“It’s your turn to turn them off,” Tom says with a smile. “I’m not doing it for you again! You owe me a few times as it is, Taylor,” He laughs.

“I know, I know,” I sigh in triumph. I unwillingly get out of his arms and crawl over Tom’s body and get out of bed, so lazy and tired to even get up and flick the switch that’s by my door.

I turn off the lights, and everything is pitch black, except for the small bit of moonlight that seeps in through the closed curtains.

I go back in bed, but instead of going back to my side of the bed, I lay down on top of Tom’s chest. I rest my head on my hands and I gaze up at him. It’s dark, but I can see the outline of his face. The moonlight only helps show me just some of the details on his face. “I love you,” I murmur, my eyes filled with passion for him.

“As do I,” He says in return. I kiss Tom’s lips for a moment before resting my head over his heart.

I fall asleep to the nonchalant sound of his heart. It’s all I can hear—it’s all I need to hear.

All at once, my worries of the world surrounding us slip away, and it’s just us.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note for this chapter:
> 
> "SURPRISE BITCH! ;) Two chapter updates in one day! From here on out I’ll be updating every Tuesday for this fic. For “Assassin” I’ll update every Thursday.
> 
> in Taylor’s “I Wish You Would” memo voice: DO YOU LIEK IT?? ☺"

I feel the sun’s rays shining through my slightly cracked curtains, hitting my face. I groan and roll over and bury my face into Tom’s chest, not ready to get up. “Toooommm…” I groan his name, my hand reaching up and placing itself lazily over his face. I’m pretty sure I covered one of his eyes on accident—but whatever. “Wake upppp,” I say groggily, squeezing my eyes tighter to block out the sun.

“Hmm?” I hear him suck in a breath suddenly as he opens his eyes, head turning and looking at his surroundings in shock. “Oh—SHIT!” Tom says, sitting up quickly. My body slides down as he does so, my arm and hand extended against his chest, my head on his lap. “SHIT! Your parents, Taylor!” He says, eyes wild. He looks down at my position and chuckles. He knows how lazy I am in the morning, especially when I don’t want to be woken up and I’m sleep deprived.

He places his hands on my torso, and makes me sit up. I lick my lips, short hair a crazy mess (if you looked at me you would probably thought I had a wild night of sex) and poofing out. It’s a complete tangled mess. My eyes open, but they squint from not being use to the light all of a sudden. I stretch out my arms, yawning as my eyes flicker to my alarm clock. _11:07 A.M.?!_ “OH SHIT!” I now say, eyes widening and my head turns to look at Tom. “Our flight leaves at 1:30!” Now the least of my concerns. Just two days ago my publicist had called before we left the island we were vacationing on to ask that Tom and I attend the New York Film Critics Awards with Tom to try and mend the situation of the media and fans just a little. So, we had set up a flight to New York today for that, and were going to fly to London after that. 

Now Tom and I are both scrambling off the bed, our long limbs a mess as we scurry off the bed and about the room. Immediately he takes off to his room to gather his belongings together. My mom catches a glimpse of him down the hallway, smiling and shaking her head.

I’m running around wildly in my room, getting everything I unpacked and packing it back up. My mom walks over to my room and leans against the doorway, watching me. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” She teases me. I gasp and turn my head, scared out of my mind. “Mom! Don’t sneak up on me like that,” I laugh. “It’s way too early in the morning to do that.”

“Morning? It’s almost the afternoon, sweet pea! You gotta get going if you want to catch your flight.” Mom teases me. “I’ll let you pack.” Then she leaves me to it.

I pack my things and get ready. It’s December and we’ll be in NYC, so I wear a skirt with tights, a white blouse, and a scarf. I’m wearing oxfords with a slight heel, and my make up is done and I’m all ready to go. I gather my bags and walk to the doorway. I turn my head, taking one last look at my teenage room before I shut the door.

Just as I’m emerging from my room, so is Tom, whose room is just across the hall from mine. He’s wearing dark wash jeans with a blue button up shirt that stops below his collarbone, sunglasses hanging from it. He has a black leather jacket on, and his hair is slicked back with gel. His ginger hair and facial hair stand out only more to me, as do his blue eyes that are slightly lighter than his shirt. He looks incredibly handsome, as always.

He smiles at me and he takes the lead, and we walk down the hall and to the front door where Mom and Dad are waiting. I already know that I’m going to hear a lecture from my dad in the car about Tom sneaking into my room. 

We all walk to the family black SUV and load it up, and begin the drive to the Nashville Airport.

“Now, what have I told you about needing to get more sleep, Taylor?” My dad beings after asking us before how we’re all doing. I sigh and say, “I know, Dad. I need to start putting sleep above my career and personal life.” But I don’t, and probably never will. That’s not who I am.

Scott goes on a lecture about me needing to get more sleep, but never for a moment does he bring up that Tom had snuck into my room. I’m assuming that either 1) my dad had no idea, 2) he did know but didn’t care to bring it up, or 3) even though my mom saw Tom leave my room in a hurry she decided to keep it between the three of us and not tell Dad.

But hey—I’m fine with that!

We pull up to the passenger drop-off zone for our airline, and we all get out. Mom and Dad help us with our bags and gather them up for us, putting them on the curb. We all hug goodbye, including Tom and my parents. I can see just from meeting and socializing with him last night that my parents are extremely pleased that I picked him.

It’s right when my dad is in the driver’s seat of the car, about to take off, when he rolls his windows down. Tom and I are picking up our bags off the ground to carry them inside. “Hey Taylor and Tom!” He calls for us, and we both look up at him. My mom is in the passenger seat smiling, and my dad is leaning forward so we can see him through the rolled down passenger window. “Next time you sneak into one another’s rooms, be quieter!” Scott winks, laughs, and takes off.

I don’t even meet Tom’s eyes. I don’t even know what his facial reaction is because my face is so red with embarrassment that I’m looking down at the ground, concentrating on the cracks in the concrete. I look up at him now, and Tom is just as red, but then we laugh at each other, shaking our heads. “Told ya,” I tease Tom, reminding him of my warning from last night when he snuck into my room.

“I still say it was worth it,” Tom winks at me. We laugh together and walk into the airport to check into our flight.

It’s not until four hours later, when you add in the process before even getting to our gate, that we’re in NYC. Instead of sleeping like last time, Tom and I buried our faces into the books we’re currently reading. It was 4 PM when we landed at JFK. Now it’s 5 PM, and we’re being driven in the back of a car to my apartment to get ready for the Critics Awards.

We pull up to my apartment and gather our bags, lugging them inside. We place them in my bedroom before getting straight to business—getting ready for the awards show.

I’m not even in the mood. I just want to lie down in bed and sleep all day with Tom, but we need to show our faces together—hand-in-hand—to hopefully put out the situation with a small bit of water with red carpet interviews together. My stylist already has everything set up in the bathroom, and Luke, Tom’s publicist, is coming to drop off the suit he chose out for him tonight.

It’s not for another hour or two before Tom and I are set and ready to go, Luke going in the car with us, of course.

Tom is wearing an all-black suit, with a white button up and collar shirt under his jacket, and opting for a black silk tie instead of a bow-tie.

I have my hair slicked back and in a bun. My make up is done lightly, but I have gold sparkly eyeliner that’s subtly on this time. My long lashes flare, and my cheeks are slightly blushed thanks to my stylist. I’m wearing a short dress that is covered in neutral shade of gold—all of it. The details are all gold leaves that are on the dress and it runs up to my shoulders and around the neckline. Part of my chest is an open hole, and the dress hugs my torso, and poofs out to where it stops an inch above my knee. I’m wearing simple tan, gold-ish heels and I’m towering at Tom’s exact height.

The whole drive there, we hear Luke rattling on endlessly. He’s nervous and anxious about what’s going to happen when we arrive, especially with all the interviews. He advises us to be together—to make sure that Tom either holds my hand or keeps his arm wrapped around my waist. He advises us to act happy and giggly, like a bunch of teenagers who are in a relationship for the first time.

The last thing Tom and I need are advice. We’re both nervous, but we know how to take care of it.

Well, at least I think I do. And I think he does, too. But Lord who knows.

When our car pulls up to the red carpet, the car door is opened, and I’m the first one to emerge out. I push myself out of the car and am helped by the gentleman who opened the door for us who takes my hand so I use him as support to stand up. I’m out of the car now, and Tom is climbing out now, Luke behind him.

It’s when Tom emerges and stands somewhat next and behind me that there’s a sudden uproar of yelling and flashing cameras from the paparazzi. My eyes look down at my feet and my hands that are holding each other in front of me.

I feel Tom take one of my hands, and I look at him before lifting my head up. We’re completely level with each other for once, our eyes at the same level. I look into his green eyes that are filled with love and reassurance, and all at once I feel at home. 

All at once, his eyes become the eye of the storm where all the calm resides while everything is spinning out of control.

There’s a small smile that appears on both of our faces, and Tom tugs on my hand gently, leading me slowly through the red carpet. I stay close to him. All the screaming and yelling for our attention and questions—all of the flashes from the cameras, and the interviewers waiting for us at the beginning of the photo op area that threaten us suddenly fade into the background.

It all fades into the background as my eyes go to the back of Tom’s slicked back ginger hair. It all fades into the background as I take in every inch of him—his slight profile and his ginger facial hair—that he’s looking at me from the corner of his eye to make sure I’m okay. It all fades in this moment.

_They take their shots._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note for this chapter:
> 
> "I actually had a very, very long and detailed outline for this chapter but I decided to split it into two separate parts because I’m feeling evil like that. #sorrynotsorry
> 
> Music inspiration for this chapter:
> 
> “The Light” – Sara Barelles
> 
> “Falling” - Haim
> 
> “Hold My Heart” – Sara Baraelles
> 
> “New Romantics” – Taylor Swift"

_I don’t want to let go too soon. I don’t want to let go of you._

My eyes flicker about wildly. I can’t see any of the faces behind the cameras that are flashing at us, but I can see Tom smiling as he turns his head to look back at me, pulling me along like a rag doll. My lips are parted, sucking in the air around us, and suddenly I forget how to function on the red carpet. I was always such a natural, though. But this—this was all _too_ new.

I grip onto his hand for dear life, and we reach the photo op area of the red carpet. I let go of Tom’s hand and straighten out my dress before looking at him with firm eyes. He knows. _He knows._ Tom is facing me and he lifts one of his large hands to my face, brushing behind a small lock of loose blonde hair behind my ear. His lips are formed in a small, closed-mouth smile. My cheeks light up and I look away from him sheepishly before he wraps his arm around my waist. We step forward together, posing for pictures as the paparazzi shout at us. They’re asking us questions about our relationship—some beg him to kiss me. But we don’t say a word. We walk slowly through the area on the carpet that leads to where Ryan Seacrest is waiting at the end for us. Tom and I just glance at each other every now and then, communicating through our eyes. Each time we catch the other’s gaze, we try to hide our smiles, and it’s obvious on our faces as the cameras capture it. As we reach the end, Tom winks at me, and I suppress a giggle. He smiles at the site of my happy face.

_Beating out of my chest, my heart is holding onto you._

We stop in front of Ryan, at the very end of the photo op wall that’s set up, the cameramen from E! starting to film us. This was one of the interviews that Luke had set up for us with him as part of smoothing out our relationship in the eye of the media. Ryan thanks us for interviewing with him tonight, asks us how we’re doing, and moves onto his first official question, which is asking how our paths intertwined seeing as our worlds have never overlapped before.

My head turns to Tom, as does his in my direction, and we both grin at each other. His eyes mirror mine—filled with indescribable love for one another. “Well,” Tom starts, turning to look at Ryan now. My head is turned somewhat toward Tom, but I’m still angled somewhat in Ryan’s direction. “It was actually at the last Met Gala. I saw her beautiful self alone, and I couldn’t help but approach her.” My cheeks light up a bit. “We struck up the most interesting conversation about the exhibit, and I was so entranced not only by her looks, but by every intelligent word that slipped out of her mouth. I couldn’t keep myself away from her ever since I laid eyes on her.” Oh god, now I’m sure my face is red!

I’m flustered with Ryan’s attention on me, his eyebrows lifted as he asks, “Is that really what happened, Taylor?”

I hook myself onto Tom’s arm, and he pulls me in a little close beside his body. “He’s just over exaggerating,” I pat Tom’s chest with one of my hands, laughing. “You know him—such the gentleman.”

Tom’s head turns down to look at me, lifting his eyebrows. “Oh don’t deny it, darling. You know it’s true,” He says, and my stomach feels light.

“And Taylor, how did you react when he approached you?”

I smirk, looking up at Tom before I turn my head back to Ryan. “Well, to be honest, I was thinking to myself, ‘Who is this creep that just came up to me that I don’t know?’” And I make sure to say that in the most sarcastic, joking voice possible. I jab Tom in the chest lightly with my elbow, only to get him jabbing my elbow with his arm that I’m clutching onto. We burst out laughing, hitting elbows before I shake my head, looking up at Tom. “I’m just kidding.” I clear my throat, growing serious now as I gaze up at him. “No, actually…I thought he was incredibly kind, and quite handsome, I have to admit.” Our eyes are glued to each other before Ryan clears his throat, gathering our attention suddenly. 

“Well,” Ryan shifts his weight from one foot to another. “Seems like you two are quite the lovebirds here,” He grins.

The interview carries on for a few minutes, and it’s Tom and I joking around, but also being serious, and acting like two teenagers in love. Then again, that is how we act with each other—we’re both romantics, after all. At the end of it, Ryan hugs each of us and he whispers in my ear something the cameras don’t catch, which is: “About time you found a good one.” Ryan and I are friends—whenever I’m getting interview requests, I always make sure to set aside time for him. We get along so well, after all! Plus I’ve been with him every year since I first started going to New York for the ball to drop. We have a past as good friends. But I never expected this from him.

I pull back from his brief hug, stunned. I look like a deer caught in headlights. But I quickly put on my mask, smiling so the cameras don’t catch this moment. And they don’t. I’ve mastered this technique. I swallow, and put a smile on my face as I thank Ryan for the interview tonight. Tom takes me by the hand, and we’re almost out.

_Are we in the clear yet?_

We stop. Tom stops in his tracks, and I clumsily bump into him. I’m looking up at him, bewildered. He chuckles and steadies me with his hands on both of my arms. He’s smiling sweetly now, and I recognize that look. I lean in slowly, so unsure. I’m so unsure, and so afraid of the consequences.

But our lips meet, one of Tom’s hands on the small of my back, pressing me into him.

_I hear the voices and they’re calling for me now._

I melt. I melt into him. His other hand slips to hold my head steady, and his lips are firm against mine with passion.

_I can feel the eyes are watching us so close._

I can hear the screams—the frenzy—every finger as they press down on their camera that flashes, capturing this moment here and now. His lips pull away slowly, coming off of mine centimeter by centimeter. His lids slowly lift, pale green orbs locked solely on mine.

We both turn our heads away simultaneously. Tom ushers me towards the building, hand still on the small of my back. Lucas catches up to us, and is on Tom’s side, a look of disapproval on his face. He’s clearly having a panic attack over this, since he didn’t expect for this move on Tom’s part to occur. Lucas is mumbling something to Tom—I can’t hear what he’s saying over the screams from the paparazzi, but his tone is like that of a scolding mother, putting her son in timeout.

“Well they’ll just have to deal with the fact that I can kiss Taylor like any other goddamn person,” I hear Tom swear as he presses two of his fingers more into my back. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him grow so upset—so _defensive_ over me.

“Tom, it’s okay,” I tell him in reassurance. My eyes flicker to Lucas. “What can we even do about it now? It’s just another thing to add to the list,” I shrug, now glancing away from him.

He’s not sure whether to take my words as me being a cold bitch, or trying to calm him down. Either way, Lucas drops this topic of conversation as the three of us disappear into building, out of the eye of the cameras out there. But the cameras that will be filming the event—that’s a whole different story.

We check in and the three of us taking our designated seats. Tom and I sit next to each other, with Lucas on the other side of Tom. Tom and I are chatting when a man we don’t recognize comes to get Lucas urgently, dragging him off.

It’s moments later when Lucas comes back, while the lights dim and the host steps up onto the stage. Both Tom’s and my heads turn to Lucas as he sits down in his seat and says our names with urgency. “Yes?” Tom and I say in unison, but there are no laughs from doing so in this serious moment. 

“We have an emergency to handle. Well, less of an emergency—more like a situation that the two of you will need to handle within the next thirty minutes, give or take,” Lucas shrugs.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Brad Pitt and Angelina were supposed to present one of the awards tonight, but weren’t able to make it because one of their sick got sick with the stomach flu—something like that. And…I may, sort of, owe a favor to a friend who asked me if the two of you could present the award instead, in light of your now public relationship.” Lucas shoots as an uneasy smile before Tom and I look at each other.

Our eyes meet for a brief second before we look back to Lucas, nodding in unison. What harm could it really cause?

Within the next twenty minutes, we all coordinate our mostly-improv speech that is mainly filled with us poking fun at each other, but slamming the media in the most passive-aggressive way you can fathom. 

We’re towards the end of planning when it’s our cue to go behind the stage to line up as the next presenters. I’m full of nerves—so jittery. And instead of being like any other person who bottles it up, I jump up and down backstage, shaking my hands and arms out. I’m shaking it off—shaking away all of the pressure from the outside world. I shut my eyes, even out my breathing in this moment, and settle back down, standing still in my spot.

It’s not until I open my eyes and glance to the side that I see Tom smiling at me, his cheeks light up, as he gives me his familiar, “Ehehehe…” laugh before it transforms into slightly louder one. 

My lips are fighting off the smile that threatens to appear, and I lose. I join in with his laughter, head tossing back. My hair moves as I straighten out my posture, looking to Tom, our laughs fading away. I hear our names announced as the presenters for the Best Animated Film.

It’s just like any other awards show on TV—we walk on stage, the light on us as we move, cameras following our every direction. Him and I are both smiling and waving at the crowd, and we stop in sync at the podium.

“Taylor,” Tom turns his head to me, beckoning for my attention. “Do you remember when we were at your apartment and you wanted to watch _Finding Nemo_ so badly, and I gave in because you wouldn’t stop talking about how fantastic of a job Ellen did in it?”

I laugh, eyes lighting up at the memory. “How could I forget? You don’t know how to appreciate a good film when you see it,” I nudge him playfully, and he smirks.

But then Tom’s eyes widen, jaw drops, and he points at himself as he faces the audience before turning his head to me. We hear the audience laugh at his reaction, and once they stop he continues on. “ _Me?!_ Well you’re the one who doesn’t love _Shrek_? Now _that’s_ a great animated film!”

We play the roles of any other bickering couple, but we know when to stop. “No, I do love it!” I say in defense, crossing my arms over my chest. My body faces him, and he moves to face me, crossing his arms over his chest. “But we’ve watched it sooooo many times together I got bored of it, Tom. Could you ever find it in yourself to forgive me?” I pout my lips. He pouts back for a moment, and the audience bursts out laughing. We can’t help but join in on the laughter, giving up on our act.

Tom draws me into a warm embrace as we laugh, hand on the back of my head as I gaze at him. “Of course, darling, of course,” He says, before the audience echoes an ‘awww’ at us. We let go of one another, smiling, as we go back to being serious. “Well speaking of animated films,” I say, winking at Tom, “Why don’t you do the honors?”

Tom takes the envelop off the podium, holding it up. He opens it, and I’m peeking over his shoulder. He announces the winner, and the cameras go to the director of-said film, who walks up to the stage.

And that’s a wrap.

* * *

 

It’s all over.

But the night is still young.

I leave the awards show on my own. Tom isn’t at my side, and neither is Lucas.

As I make my way out and head to the car, everyone is bewildered—the cameras are flashing, and there are nothing but confused yells of, “What happened to Tom, Taylor?! Why isn’t he with you?!” and, “Did you scare this one away again, Taylor?”

Ha! _Ha!_ Did I scare this one again?

_I can build a castle out of all the bricks they threw at me._

I climb on in; mask on, and drive back to my apartment.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note for this chapter:
> 
> "Writing Inspiration (other than IKP obviously):
> 
> “I Know You Care,” “Explosions,” and “Love Me Like You Do” by Ellie Goulding
> 
> “Out of the Woods” by Taylor Swift"

We dart out my apartment door, luggage in hand, sunglasses on, dressed in all black, like foxes.

The paparazzi are all swarmed around my apartment door, and our black SUV waiting to take us to the airport is pulled up to the curb.

We run.

_We run hand-in-hand._

The lights flash, and we jump into the backseats of the car. Luke sits in the passenger seat, and has two Starbucks drinks for us that we take happily. The driver barely manages to get our suitcase packed, thanks to the paparazzi swarm.

But that’s not even where it begins.

Their numbers are growing—those damn cameras. They’re completely surrounding the car, and we can’t even move. Our driver rolls down his window partially, yelling and cursing out the people holding the cameras, trying to get photos of Tom and I together.

All I can hear over the driver yelling is the cry of, “Are you guys just trying to play a twisted joke on the world?!”, along with the lovely addition of, “Taylor, is this all a publicity student to make yourself more popular?”

Figures.

It takes a while longer, but _finally_ we manage to get the sea of paparazzi to part for us. The SUV drives off and away. Tom and I slide our sunglasses off, looking to each other. I turn my head, looking out the back window at the cameras still flashing, taking pictures of our car as it drives off and away to the airport.

I feel his hand on my shoulder, and I look at him. His eyes read reassurance, yet despondent. And I’m not sure what to feel anymore.

“Don’t worry,” I say, my blue eyes trained on him. “I know places.”

“It’s not just that,” he says with a shake of his head. “I have this giant migraine that won’t go away,” Tom clenches his jaw. “I shouldn’t have drank nearly as much as I had last night, ehehe.”

I burst out into laughter, raising a brow at him. “Really? That’s why you look so downcast this morning? Oh my god,” my laughing continues.

“What? Don’t act like you’re not hungover either, love,” Tom bites back. “We all know you are.”

My laughing stops, and I cross my arms over my chest, leaning back into my seat. “Touche,” I reply. 

“Enough. You two might want to take a look at these,” Luke turns around, dumping a pile of magazines from this morning all over our laps in the back. He’s pissed. “Good morning to the both of you, as well.”

It’s us—everywhere. Nothing but pictures of us, whether it screencaps from when we made that speech together—posing on the red carpet, leaving, even somehow us dancing at the after-party. Then there are some hidden shots taken of Tom coming into my apartment door. We look through them, ogling at how every moment we shared was somehow captured by at least one camera.

I look to Tom, feeling his eyes on me already. I don’t know what that look is in his eyes—I can’t tell.

Is it he, trying to be apologetic? Because that’s what it seems. It seems like he’s guilty. I take his hand that’s holding one of the magazines, and I make him place it down. I squeeze his hand lovingly, and I wrinkle my forehead. “It’s not your fault. We both played into it last night.”

Tom blinks, shocked and nods his head in agreement.

I sigh aloud and look forward, out through the windshield. But Tom—his eyes are still glued to me. I can feel them burning through me with such intensity.

_There’s trouble ahead—I can feel it._

“Let the games begin. Let them think it’s a joke—that I’m just using you to get more sales. It was going to happen anyway, no matter what we did and said last night,” I say, and slide my sunglasses back on. I gather the magazines together, and place them on a neat pile on the floor of the car. I cross my arms back over my chest, and lean my body against Tom’s.

I feel him shifting, and he slides his shades back on, before leaning back against my body. He faces forward along with me, also crossing his arms. His legs are wide open (the per usual—let’s be honest here).

* * *

_I know you care. I see it in the way you stare._

The entire eight hour flight to London, we sleep, only waking up to eat, move about the cabin, and go to the bathroom. We’re flying in my private jet to avoid the public as much as possible at this point because of the situation.

No, _our situation._

We land by 9 PM GMT. We gather our bags and try our best to make our way through the London Heathrow Airport so we can leave.

We walk through with Luke, and there are no cameras. No paparazzi. For once in our lives, there aren’t isn’t anyone there trying to snag a picture of us. We got lucky—no one tipped off the paparazzi. I can’t even express into words just how grateful I am.

But that doesn’t mean people aren’t staring at us.

People that we pass by, or those ahead of us, stop and stare at us in disbelief. They see Tom and I, along with Luke, rushing through the airport—just wanting to get out. We just want to go home.

We’re stopped a few times to have our photos taken with fans—whether it be Tom and I together, and/or individually with fans. We’re more than happy to oblige. We both love our fans so dearly, and are eternally thankful for all that they’ve done for us.

We make it to the car that’s pulled up outside the airport that Luke ordered. He gets in the driver’s seat, and Tom and I are in the backseat yet again. Luke drives us to Tom’s place, drops us off, and helps unload our luggage from the car. He wishes us a great “mini holiday” and says he’ll stay in touch for upcoming interviews that will commence in a few days, one of which is our follow up E! interview that we promised Ryan.

Luke leaves us. Tom leads the way, and I follow behind him. There’s a small, black metal fence that surrounds his front yard, and a small gate to get through. It’s pitch black outside, and the only source of lights are the street lamps, and the porch light that’s on. Tom opens the gate, and I follow behind him, the two of us lugging our baggage with us.

We walk on a path of cobblestone, and I see nothing but roses and flowers blossoming in this vast garden Tom has in his front yard. We follow the path to his porch, where an antique wooden bench resides. He unlocks the door, and rushes in to set off the security alarm. The door shuts in the process and I wait outside. Tom comes back, opening the door with a wide grin on his face. “Come in, darling. Make yourself at home. This is your home, too.”

I enter in slowly, bringing in my bag, Tom flicks on the lights inside, and my eyes flicker about his place. His voice interrupts my thoughts that are overwhelming me.

“I’ll show you everything outside in the morning when we can actually _see_ ,” Tom chuckles. “I promise. But let’s drop off our bags and I’ll show you around the house.”

Being the gentleman that he is, he takes my bag, and I can’t help but protest.

“Tom—no! That’s too much for you to carry all at once,” I frown.

“Taylor, love, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing more than what I can’t handle,” He winks at me.

I roll my eyes, shake my head, and let out a small laugh. “If you say so.”

We walk through the hallway to his bedroom. He turns on the light, and drops our bags off near his bed. My eyes are flickering about, taking in everything. The dark browns—the stark whites sticking out in contrast. I run my hand over his set of oak drawers, yet another antique in the house.

“Come along now,” Tom takes me by the hand, whisking me away. I don’t even have a chance to protest, and next thing I know we’re in the kitchen. 

There’s an island, that’s granite with a mix of different shades of brown. Barstools stand along it, and he has the most up-to-date appliances. It’s like one of those sleek, modern kitchens that are absolutely stunning that you see in model homes or magazines.

We continue to walk, and he’s giving me a tour of the place, blabbing on about the décor and some funny stories of his about the rooms that I also can’t help but laugh at.

He has an office, a guest bedroom, and then his master bedroom. On top of it, he also has medium brown hardwood flooring all over the house, except in the two bathrooms.

We go back to the kitchen, and sit at the island together.

“Chinese sound good? I know this lovely place with the _best_ Chinese food in all of London—mark my word on it! You have to try it out, Taylor. That is, unless you actually feel up to cooking…” Tom smirks, narrowing his eyes on me.

“Cooking? _Now?”_ I shake my head as I laugh. “Like hell you’d want to cook either after this long day.”

He calls in our order, and after he hangs up the phone grabs his wallet and car keys. “Do you mind grabbing some ice cream, too, while you’re out?” I ask with a warm smile on my face. “I’ve just been craving it soooo much and it sounds great right about now!”

Tom smirks, and his eyes are smoldering as he looks at me. I want to melt into a puddle right there and there—that’s the same look that reeled me in since day one. “Of course—who did you take me for? A man who protests against ice cream? That’s madness!” We try not to laugh, but we crack up anyway—the usual for us.

He leaves me to wait in the house, and I can’t help but wander around slowly, my hands running along every surface as I absorb in all the details. I’m coming up with song lyrics in my head. I need to have this all memorized.

I wander through his house, gazing upon the paintings and pictures he has hung up. I see a few of him with his sisters—some of him with his mother. I only see one photo that his father is in, and I can’t help but wonder why that’s the case.

I shrug, and continue over to his bedroom.

I open his drawers, and I’m immediately met with his familiar smell of pine trees and Ralph Lauren cologne. I grab one of his few large, button-up shirts (considering all he ever wears are tight ones—don’t get me wrong, I love the hell out of them! But a chance is nice). I change out of my clothes and slip on his shirt, and it’s so big on my petite frame it’s like a dress. I roll up the sleeves midway, and all wearing is this shirt and my undergarments. 

I walk to my luggage and grab my make-up remover wipes. I go to his connecting bathroom, turn on the light, and take off my make-up with the wipes easily. I throw my short hair into a ponytail, although my bangs are very much still in my face, and pieces of hair hang loose that didn’t quite make it.

I wander over to his bed, crawl on it, and curl up in a ball, my head resting on his decorate pillows he has, that somehow matches the décor of his room. Some are white with blue stitching, others blue with some kind of pattern on it in white—but there are many pillows he has. I lie on his all white sheets, and bury my face into his pillows. 

I lie still. All I do is shut my eyes, and inhale his intoxicating scent.

_Are we going to make it? How will we get past this? I don’t want this relationship to die like all the rest. I don’t want the media to take it down…I can’t stand for that to happen again._

_I can’t stand to lose Tom. Now not—not ever. I need him. I need him._ I can feel my nose and eyes grow a little sensitive, but I’m able to relax my emotions and I’m fine. _But I know something’s going to happen soon—I can feel it._

_You know how they always say to trust your gut? Well, my gut is telling me this won’t last. My gut is telling me that we’re going to go through a winter so cold. But I still hope. Maybe things aren’t ‘ought to be like this. Maybe…_

I shudder, because suddenly I can feel eyes on me. How long has it been? How long has he been standing there, watching me? How long have I been lying here, lost in my thoughts?

I lift my head up, slowly turning back. I blink my bright blue eyes. My blonde hair is a mess, but I can’t help but look at Tom.

He stands there, leaning against the doorway watching me. He has his black leather jacket on, arms crossed over his chest, with a sly and giant smile plastered across his face. My cheeks are burning in return.

“Ehehehe, well, don’t mind me interrupting your…moment here, darling,” Tom keeps laughing. “Since you seem like you were enjoying yourself so much smelling my sheets, I’ll just enjoy myself and eat all of our food alone.” He smirks.

_Only you can set my heart on fire._

I sit up quickly on my heels, legs together. hands pushing down into my lap. “You jerk!” I bite down on my bottom lip, trying to keep from smiling, but that only fails. “You’re just going to let me starve for your own enjoyment?” I pout.

Tom laughs and walks over to his bed, sitting on the edge on the side closest to me. “Now how could I do that to the woman I love?” He takes my chin with his long right index finger, tilting and moving my head in his direction. My face is flushed, and I feel like I’m on fire. It’s not just because I was caught with my face stuffed in his sheets, breathing in his scent, but because he still manages to make my stomach feel like it’s about to explode from having too many butterflies.

Still—after all this time.

His eyes are burning with intensity and passion. My stomach churns. Tom gathers me up in his arms, pulling me into his lap. My legs hang off the side of his bed, and my arms encircle around his neck. Our foreheads press together.

Tom moves some hair out of my face, tucking it behind an ear sweetly. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” I say suddenly, trying to hide my smile.

“Now just what are you talking about?” He asks, tracing circles into the center of my lower back with his thumb.

“Smelling your sheets and pillows, when I have the real thing right in front of me.”

One of my tiny hands takes Tom’s jaw, tilting his lips down towards mine. And he captures my lips in a sweet kiss. My hand lingers over his ginger goatee, relishing in the feeling of his rough facial hair against the soft skin of my hand and face.

He presses more into me, and I moan softly into his lips. I pull away, breaking our kiss, burying my head into the nape of his neck. I inhale his scent before letting out a content sigh. “Mm…you smell so good, Thomas,” I say. I kiss the spot in between his neck and shoulder sweetly before nipping, and sucking at his skin playfully.

Tom laughs through his groan of pleasure, grabbing me and moving my head away. “I told you,” he teases me. “C’mon, let’s eat before the food gets cold, and before _you_ give me a hard on,” he winks at me. 

My face lights up before I give him a wicked grin.

“Hey—I can’t help myself around you!” Tom defends himself, cheeks lighting up for a second before the color fades out, and he makes a comeback, “You’re just too goddamn sexy for me.” He presses his lips to my cheek, purring, only causing me to laugh. I press my hand against his chest, and I kiss him briefly.

“You know you don’t have to keep sucking up to me this far in our relationship,” I say after pulling away. Tom scoops me up into his arms suddenly, carrying my bridal style. I squeal in surprise and excitement.

“Oh, I’m not kissing your ass at all,” Tom says as he looks down at me and winks. He carries me out to the family room where the take out is already set up on the coffee table. The TV is already on, and set at Neflix. He places me down on the couch gently. “I’ll be back,” He tells me.

Tom comes back rather quickly, changed out of his clothes from earlier. He’s in a short sleeve, fitted shirt that flaunts his toned chest, with blue stripped boxers on. He has a blanket in hand, wrapping it around himself from behind. He joins me on the couch, wraps me in his arms so I’m under the blanket, too.

_Follow me through the dark. Let me take you past our satellites._

We watch “A Royal Affair” on Netflix while we stuff our faces with ice cream and take out. He had gotten my favorite flavor of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, which is Cinnamon Buns. We lay down this whole time, Tom on his back, sitting up just very slightly against the arm of the couch so he can eat. I’m on my back, laying in between his legs, head propped up against his slightly propped up chest as I eat my ice cream, the blanket on top of our bodies. The two of us have some pretty decently sized food babies going on.

After the movie ends, and my tears finally shed (thanks to the heart breaking ending), we clean up everything. Tom gets up and tells me to wait afterwards, and I sit on the couch and patiently wait, just as he requested.

When he comes back, there is one chain in his hand that’s a pendant of a scroll. He sits back down on the couch beside me, and places both in the palm of my hand. It has a saying split in half, and I can’t quite make out what it’s supposed to complete.

Until my eyes spot a matching pendant on his chest. I get it now—I see it. Put together, both say, “It’s just us.”

_Fading in, fading out. On the edge of paradise._

My face is warm—tears threaten to spill out of my eyes as I gaze at them. My other hand traces over the engraved letters in thought before I look up to Tom. He’s beaming with joy and love, smiling with his lips closed, eyes trained on me.

“Thomas William Hiddleston…” I bite down on my lower lip before I smile, a couple of tears hitting my cheeks.

His long fingers come up and wipe them away before he presses his lips to where each tear marked my skin. “Don’t cry, my love.”

“Don’t cry? Don’t cry—really?” I laugh, shaking my head. He bites down on his lip, but now he’s fully smiling at me. “How can I not cry when you’re constantly doing stuff like this for me? I can’t believe you…”

I pull him in roughly for a kiss. All is forgotten about the necklaces.

Tom pins me down on the couch, and we’re both filled with a need for each other.

His lips press against mine, and we’re both in a frenzy. My hands are entangled in his hair as his lips move down to my neck, sucking and nibbling on my tender skin. I buck my hips, moaning in reaction.

But he stops. And I stop, too.

Tom sits back up, and I sit as well. We clear our throats, looking at one another. We know what we’ll be doing later this evening.

“Let me put it on you.”

I turn around, and he puts the necklace around my neck, locking it in place. It the scroll dangles down, hanging just past my prominent collarbones. My fingers run over it, memorizing every groove—every feeling 

I turn back to him, and I know what I want to do next.

I shoot up from the couch, standing and holding out my hand for him. It’s 1 A.M., and I know exactly what I want to do. “Help me move the furniture, please.”

Tom eyes me suspiciously before taking my hand, standing up. “I don’t know what it is that you have planned, but anything for your, dear.”

We move the furniture to the sides of the family room, and how there’s so much space available to us.

I take out my phone, and put on a certain song I love to dance.

The melody starts to play, and I’m swinging my hips—my head and whole body—to the rhythm.

_You can dance—you can jive. Having the time of your life. See that girl—watch the scene, digging the dancing queen._

His face lights up with recognition, and he joins in. We’re dancing, and Tom is definitely getting his groove on.

Tom grabs my by my hips, pulling me in against his body suddenly. I gasp, and he dips me back slightly, my eyes glued to him.

He pulls me back up, straightening me, his hands on my hips as we sway in sync to the music.

For the last chorus he spins me around—around, around, around, around, around, around, and around again.

_My head is spinning around and I can’t see clear no more._

The whole world is spinning around me. Tom is a blur, but even through the blur I can see his wide smile.

We dance the night away like this, at 1 A.M. Our pendants swing with us, and all that happened today is forgotten all at once.

All the chaos surrounding us is pushed off, just as the furniture is that was in our way.

We dance. We spin, laugh, and sing out loud crazily.

We’re in love.

_What are you waiting for?_


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note for this chapter:
> 
> "I had to do some research on Tom’s father to write this, actually. He doesn’t talk about him often, but from what I’ve gathered, he has daddy issues (which I can relate to very much. I’m such a hypocrite—I’m a daddy’s girl with daddy issues). I wanted to make this chapter as accurate as possible for you all, especially because I know many of you were looking forward to this chapter in particular since the creation of IKP. 
> 
> Well, here it is at last! And forgive me for the late chapter update. Life has been hectic, to say the least.
> 
> Writing Inspiration: “Empty Handed,” “You’re Mine,” and “Thousand Needles” by Lea Michele"

**_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP_ **

Oh won’t that wretched thing shut up already?! I lay on my stomach, groaning into my pillow, buried under our blanket mound with Tom’s arms around me as he lays on his side, pressed into my body.

**_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP_ **

I curl my pillow up around my head, squeezing my eyes tighter. I hear Tom stir, and he stretches his limbs, unraveling his arms from me.

**_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP_ **

I lift my face out of my pillow and push myself up. My hair is a wild mess around me. “Alright, alright! I’m up!” I sigh, crawling over Tom’s body as he rubs his eyes, and I smack the button on his alarm clock. Finally. _Finally._ I lay back down on my belly, resting my chin on his chest, gazing at him. My arm is also bent and also on top of him. 

His eyes blink, opening and gazing around him. They widen as he slowly wakes up before the eventually meet my gaze. He smiles at me, dark bags showing. I shoot him a quick smile in return, and my bags are as equally prominent as his.

We didn’t get to bed until 4 A.M. after all and it’s now 8 A.M.

“Goooood morning,” I say sweetly, my finger tracing circles on the exposed skin of his chest. I rest my cheek against my arm, smooshing my cheek up. He smiles at the sight.

“I don’t mean to rush you, but we ‘ought to get up, darling. I set the alarm for the last possible second for us to get up and barely make it out of the house in time,” Tom says and his lips form a firm line.

“I know, I know. Why can’t I just curl up in a bunch of blankets and meet your parents like that? I bet they’d just love that,” I joke, and he laughs.

“Now that’s something _I’d_ like to see. I bet you’d look so hot like that—especially with your glasses and how your hair is now,” Tom ruffles my hair, making it more frizzy, and I pout my lips.

“Whatever,” I roll my eyes at him. I crack a smile because I can’t help myself. I get up, crawling over him. I’m about to get out of bed when I feel his hand capture my ankle, pulling me back, causing my leg to full extend.

I yelp and look back at him, still on all fours, my behind facing him. “Hey! Not fair!” I say. I try to kick my leg, but he tugs harder, pulling me back towards him. Tom sits up, wraps his arms around my waist, and brings me into his lap. My back faces him, and he moves my hair to one side of my neck. His lips plant themselves against the side of my neck lovingly. I straighten my posture, dip my head back a little, and relish in the feeling.

I’m filled with nothing but love for him.

My tender skin burns at the spot his lips touch. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you look in the morning? Especially when you first wake up…” Tom kisses my cheek. “You’re so breathtakingly beautiful, Taylor.” He turns my head to the side, capturing my lips now.

So sweet. He’s too sweet. I don’t deserve that. The pit of my stomach drops, but I’m so caught up in this moment—so caught up in him. I’m filled with nothing but the bittersweet feeling of having someone like him in my life—having him all to myself in particular.

I’m scared.

I press my lips back to his, letting them linger against his, barely touching. He smooths my hair back with a hand before we pull back, looking at each other.

I jump out of his arms, out of bed now. “Let’s shower together—it’ll come back on the time it takes to get ready!” I suggest, but I’m nowhere implying “hey why don’t we fuck in the shower” because I know we don’t have time for that right now.

* * *

The hot water hits our naked skin. Steam rises up into the air. My back is turned to Tom as he puts conditioner in my hair, massaging it into my scalp and in my short strands of hair. I lean back into his gentle touch, smiling. He gathers my hair on top of my head, letting it sit there with the conditioner in it.

I turn around, facing Tom. I pour his shampoo into my hands, and massage it into his hair. He gazes down at me, and in this moment his eyes look blue rather than their usual pale green hue. I lick my lips before I smile, and he grins back down at me.

We rinse each other off. We caress each other lovingly. He presses his lips to the back of my left shoulder after he’s rinsed me off. He moves his lips along my upper back, to the nape of my neck, cherishing my body. I turn around, and I rinse him as well. I even clean off his goatee, making him laugh and smile. I press my lips against his chest—his collarbone.

He’s in love, too. But is he scared like I am? Probably not.

I can’t let him know.

_All I’ve never known is how to hide a secret._

* * *

 

His parents live on the outer skirts of London, where it’s still populated and just as gorgeous. Tom pulls up his sleek, black Jaguar to the curb of the house. I gaze out my window at the gorgeous scenery. The front is filled with a garden; flowers are blooming everywhere. It is early summer, after all.

Vibrant green vines grow on his two-story house that is made of brick; it resembles that of a cottage. I love it so much.

We both get out of the car and shut our doors. We walk around the car, meeting up halfway before walking up the driveway. I wear tan, tall wedges, with a white dress that has a blue floral pattern. I have my classic red lipstick on, with just simple eye liner and mascara.

Tom is in a sky blue button up shirt, sleeves rolled up, black pants, and black oxfords. He’s his classic self, and even if he wasn’t, I would love him just the same.

I’m nervous. So nervous. My legs shake a little as we walk on the cobblestone that weaves through the garden. I wonder if anyone in his family loves gardening.

We get to the front door that is a deep shade of red, and he gives a cheery three knocks on the door. “Mum, Papa—it’s Tom,” he calls, leaning forward on his tip-toes with eagerness.

Tom turns his head to me, and I swallow. “It’ll be alright, love. They’ll like you—I promise,” He reassures me with a smile, and I nod because I hear footsteps growing closer. And closer. And impossibly closer. I suck in a breath through my mouth, and exhale slowly through my nose. Calm, Taylor. Calm. I shut my eyes for a second before opening them up as I hear the door open.

We’re met with a cheerful smile from his mother. Her hair is short, barely passing her ears, and pure white. “Oh, Thomas, it’s so great to see you!” She opens her arms up, taking him in them. He wraps his arms around her, and pecks her on the cheek.

“It’s great to see you, too, Mum,” He says, patting her back affectionately. Tom pulls away, and turns in between her and I. “Mum, I’d like you to meet Taylor, my girlfriend.”

“Hi, Mrs. Hiddleston. It’s nice to finally be able to meet you. Tom has said told me so many things about you.” I smile, and instead of extending my hand to shake, I go in for a hug, because that’s the kind of person I am. I wrap my arms around her, only to get her arms around me without any hesitation, and she embraces me like I’m her own daughter. Her lips even press to my cheek for a brief moment. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you so much! After all, you are the one who got Tom into having petit madeleine’s with his tea, which I’m now obsessed with doing,” I say and giggle as I pull away from her sweet hug.

“Oh please don’t call me that, darling. It makes me feel like too old!” His mom laughs as she fans her hand. “Call me Diana, please. You are just the sweetest thing, did you know that?” My cheeks light up in return, and I shake my head bashfully.

Suddenly I hear a higher pitched female voice echo in the house. “Is that Tom I hear?” The voice shouts out, followed by the sound of feet shuffling down the staircase. “With a girlfriend at that?!”

“Come in, the two of you!” His mother ushers us inside. Tom shuts the door behind us, and before we even get a chance to take our shoes off, his sister is bounding down the bottom of the staircase. Her dirty blonde hair, that’s also light brown towards the roots, flies behind her as she bounds towards Tom.

“Tom—c’mere, you!” She gathers him up in her arms for a very brief moment.

“Oh, Sarah!” He hugs her back, his face lighting up. He’s in his element, and I can see just how much he loves and misses his family.

She pulls away, punching him playfully in his ribcage. “Oi—you never ring me up like you say you will!” Sarah teases. Her eyes, which are a darker shade of blue than Tom’s are right now, light up. Tom flinches, grabbing at his side as he narrows his eyes on her, but then he smiles.

“You know how busy I am. I try to make the time—forgive me. _You_ could always ring _me,_ do you realize that?” He bites her back, drawing blood.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just not the same. A promise is a promise, Tom.” Sarah says, but drops the subject. She turns to me. Even without my heels on, she’s a good seven or eight inches shorter than me. I tower over her, especially with my choice of shoes today, to say the least. “Aren’t you going to introduce me, Thomas?” She says in almost a scolding manner.

“I was just getting to that,” He rolls his light blue eyes at her. “Sarah, meet Taylor.” Tom takes my hand, pulling me in closer to the duo.

“Taylor Swift is your girlfriend?” She blinks her eyes, seeming appalled by this. “My, my, Tom, you’ve got the best of the best as your very own. Good job, brother.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Thank you so much! I really appreciate it, but I’m nothing special. I was the one who got lucky here,” I say, looking at Tom. He squeezes my hand, looking back at me as I add on, “You have a wonderful brother, Sarah.” Our eyes linger on each other for a moment before I turn back to her, smiling. I let go of Tom’s hand and practically squat down to meet her height while I wrap my arms around her.

“Welcome to the family, Taylor!” I can hear her laugh as she embraces me back. “You might as well be my sister-in-law at this rate,” She winks once we’ve pulled back. I can feel Tom’s eyes on me, burning a hole through me with how intense he’s being. My cheeks grow hot at that thought—the thought of marriage. Marrying Tom.

I don’t turn back to see what his reaction is on his face because I’m afraid. I’m too afraid. I’d rather not know—rather carry on with being oblivious and ignorant.

Is he just as scared as I am? I think this to myself again, before his mother’s voice snaps me out of it.

“Don’t you want to see your father, Tom? He came to visit my home just for this occasion.” His mom asks. Tom blinks, and nods his head.

“Yes, oh right.” We all know he didn’t forget—that it was just him also lost in our thoughts. The four of us walk through the dining room to the family room where his father is. “By the way, was Emma able to make it, Mum?” Tom asks.

“I’m afraid not. You know how her schedule is—her life is in India now, after all,” Diana sighs.

We get to the family room where his father is reading the morning newspaper in his chair. It is Sunday morning, after all. Tom clears his throat as we all stand there, waiting for him to acknowledge us. “Father, I’m home,” He says. Tom’s hands are in front of him, holding onto each other.

He’s balding for the most part, and what little hair he has left is white. He wears a tan sweater with a white button up underneath, collar and sleeves poking out. He’s wearing darker blue denim. His glasses are on, and he’s concentrating on the paper. He lifts his head up, looking at all of us, and tilts his glasses down on his nose. “Oh, Thomas! Come give your Papa a hug!” He sets the paper down on his lap, extending his arms out.

I wonder why he’s not getting up from his seat to at least meet Tom halfway.

Tom strides across the room and lowers himself, hugging his father for a brief moment. He pulls away, standing tall, and looks to me. “I want you to meet someone very special in my life,” He says. Tom motions for me to walk over with his right index finger, and I obey. I walk until I stand in front of him.

“Hi, Mr. Hiddleston. It’s so nice to meet you! I’m Taylor!” I smile affectionately, and I lower down, wrapping my arms around him in a hug. His father returns the hug, patting my back. I pull away and stand up straight, holding my head up high. I need to stay confident like I’ve been doing. I just don’t know what to make of him since Tom has barely spoken about him at all. All I know about his dad is that his parents are divorced, that his father use to highly disapprove of Tom’s decision to go into acting because he wanted him to have a career that “uses his mind,” but now he’s proud of how far Tom has come now, and that Tom has “daddy issues” from what he’s told me. He said part of it was because he only lived with his mom after the divorce, but I know there had to be much more to it. What makes up his daddy issues? I have no idea. I tried to coach it out of him gently, but he just never wanted to talk about it, so I let it be. I figured it would come out eventually—it’s not like I’ve told Tom everything about me yet, as close as we are. I know he doesn’t call his dad often to talk. I know what his father’s profession is—but that’s it. And I’m anxious because of this.

“Taylor? Hmm,” His father’s eyes glance at me up and down.

“Yes! _The_ Taylor Swift!” Emma chimes in joyfully. 

“Oh. _Oh_ ,” His father says in recognition. I wrinkle my forehead, trying to decode what that last “oh” actually meant from the tone he used. “I insist that you call me James.”

“Will do!” I say awkwardly, giving a thumbs up. I laugh nervously and swallow. “Thanks for the tip!” I’m mentally shooting myself in the foot repeatedly. _Shut up, Taylor, just shut up already. You’re making a fool out of yourself and you’ve barely even met his family. Why do you always have to be such an awkward idiot?_

“Take a seat—please, everyone, I insist. You can’t keep standing there all damn day long,” His father chuckles as he motions towards the couches. All four of us take a a seat, myself sitting on the couch closest to his father. His sister sits beside me, Tom next her, and his mother on the other sofa. Now, tell me, Taylor,” James speaks up, and I blink, looking up at him. “Do you know anything of UK politics in that little head of yours?”

I’m not sure of whether or not I should be insulted by the latter part of his question.

“Why, yes, I do. What do you want to talk about?” I return.

“What’s your opinion on David Cameron and the Labour party? I’m interested to know,” he states.

It’s just his father and I that talks—and it feels so tense. The air is filled with so much tension, and I can feel Tom watching me carefully, trying to make sure I don’t slip. He warned me that his father has a bad habit of catching the smallest slip ups and making a brouhaha over it.

We discuss that, going back and forth on each other’s opinions with history and current events, and even begin to compare and contrast the U.S. politics with the UK’s. Tom chips in once he feels himself become more comfortable, realizing that I have it all put together, and I’m being careful with his father.

And it just…sort of takes off from there.

* * *

 

We sit at the dinner table, all of the food courtesy of his mom. His mother sits at one end, and his father on the opposite end. Tom sits next to him, and I sit by his mother. His sister sits beside me, and the two seats across from her are empty, as well as the one beside her.

“I made some of your favorites, Tom,” His mother says as she picks up the first dish, passing it around. There’s nothing fancy tonight—it seems like any other down-to-earth dinner with your family, even though his parents are divorced. On that first dish is his favorite French food, Croque-monsieur, even though it’s as simple as it is. But just looking at it makes my mouth water. There was a time Tom took me out to a private French restaurant at the beginning of our relationship and forced me to try it, and ever since I’ve fallen head over heels in love with that damn sandwich.

We each take our servings, amongst other dishes that are past around.

We eat in comfortable silence, and I think nothing of it. I’m too wrapped in how great all of this food is—I can already feel my food baby settling in, and I’m only halfway through. That’s when I hear Tom’s father’s voice croak, breaking the silence, all heads turning to him at once. “So Taylor, tell me what made you want to become a music artist.”

I stop eating, pausing. I know the answer to this in a heartbeat—it’s what makes up my whole being. I tell him where it all began—with my grandmother who use to perform in operas and I would always sing along to Disney movies as a child, later on it ended up being musical artists. I tell him how when I was growing up it became my emotional outlet, and like all my songs were my journal. I tell him now, not only do I do it for myself, but I do it for the fans. “I love them. They mean the world to me. If it wasn’t for me, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”

He nods his head in acknowledgement, chewing his food. He swallows. “Ah, okay. It’s very nice to see that you’re a passionate young lady,” James says, but he doesn’t smile.

I take a bite into my food.

Another question now. “Did you ever attend college at least, like how Tom did?” He catches me at the most awkward moment since I’m in the middle of chewing. I hold a finger up, speeding up. I miss the scolding look that Tom shoots his father.

“No. I didn’t. I mean—that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to. I just didn’t get the chance, I suppose. By the time I graduated high school, I was on my first international tour, let alone I was planning it all out on my own. It takes a lot more time than you would imagine,” I say. “But I’ve always known if singing didn’t work out that I would want to be a crime scene analyst,” I grin, hoping to get a smile from him.

I fail. Miserably, at that.

Instead of acknowledging my answer, he turns to Tom and whispers a comment about me, and I know not only because of the timing, but because he looks at as he says it. After his father finishes the comment and goes back to his food, Tom doesn’t say anything back. Instead, he looks…stunned. And lost in his thoughts 

What did he tell him? What did he tell him to cause this sudden change in his demeanor? My heart is racing and I have no idea what to do.

But dinner carries on, and we make small talk, particularly Sarah running the show. Her and I already get along so well and we’re hitting it off. At this rate, she’s going to be in my circle of friends in no time 

Regardless, as the night continues, my anxiety doesn’t die down. That moment—whatever comment his father made gnaws at me, and it’s driving my mind insane. I don’t know what to do.

Oh my fucking god.

* * *

After dinner ends, we all curl up and watch a comedy, laughing, smiling, and cracking jokes. Even Tom’s father, James, unravels, and comes back down to earth. He finally acts like he’s one of us, and is calm and himself.

It’s late now, and his mother and sister have already gone off to bed. Tom is saying good-bye to his father, talking in private in his mother’s office. I decide to take this opportunity to use the bathroom since I know we’re about to head out.

I slink down the hallway, cool, calm, and collected, minding my own business. But as I walk down to the end of this long hall where the bathroom is, I can hear Tom and his father’s whispers growing louder since I’m getting closer to passing by his mother’s office. I can’t help myself, and I feel guilty since my conscience is gnawing at me for doing this.

The door to the office is barely cracked open, and I stand against the wall, listening. I hear his father point out that Tom deserves better than me, making a harsh comment about how I’m not good enough—that I don’t measure up to his intelligence and he deserves someone he can carry an actual conversation with.

I tense, and narrow my eyes down to the ground in thought. How could he? Just who does he think he is? No wonder why he has daddy issues. 

But I don’t only grow tense because of this comment, but also because Tom hesitates. I can sense it—hear it. I know how his breath sounds—how the words slip off his tongue when this happens. My stomach twists and churns.

“That’s because you haven’t taken the time to get to know her like I have, Father,” I hear Tom speak up finally, strong and determined, standing up for the both of us. _Just us._ “You’ve hardly even carried on a conversation with her, and it was on British politics at that. At least she knew a lot on the subject matter, especially with current events. Isn’t that something? I know what’s best for me. I know what I deserve, and Taylor is the one whose _too good for me_. You don’t need to tell me what I do and don’t need. I’m not a teenager anymore—I’m an adult.”

I can hear it in his tone of voice—just how upset he’s growing because of what his father said about me. I decide to move on, and continue down the hallway to the bathroom. All I can think about is how grateful I am for Tom.

All my qualms are mellowed now. I don’t have that speculation chewing at me in the darkest corners of my mind—I don’t have that doubt with us.

I know he’s in love with me just as much as I am with him. I feel soothed, and left with renewed determination.

* * *

We get back by 11 P.M. to Tom’s house where we crawl into bed, covered by our mound of blankets. We sleep soothingly with my back turned to Tom, his arms wrapped loosely around me, and his chin slightly on my shoulder. Our legs are tangled up in each other.

I’m not afraid. I’m not scared. The future isn’t so daunting anymore.

I know I deserve him, and he deserves me. I know we’re in it for the long haul.

My stomach doesn’t churn anymore. It doesn’t burn or ache with that dreadful pain I had before.

Because at the end of the day, _it’s just us_ , like how it is in this oh-so simple moment, wrapped up in one another.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note for this chapter:
> 
> "It broke my soul writing this chapter. I know all of you are going to hate me for it, especially because it is rather short. I wrote it while listening to these songs, and I highly recommend you listen to them as you read it:
> 
> “One Last Time,” “Best Mistake,” “Just A Little Bit Of Your Heart (***the most important one to listen to***),” “My Everything” by Arianna Grande."

I stand by Tom’s front door, suitcase at my side. I’m dressed in dark denim jeans, a yellow sweater, which a white button up underneath. I didn’t bother to put any make up on. I wait patiently for him to join me. I’m ready to catch my morning flight back home to New York. My necklace he gave me hangs around my neck, visible for all to see.

Tom jogs down the hallway from his room, dressed in sweatpants and his favorite blue shirt. He comes to my side, hand coming to the small of my back before he opens the door.

We walk down his cobblestone path through his garden. My car is waiting, ready to take me to the airport.

When we get to the end of the driveway, the driver takes my suitcase for me, putting it in the trunk of the car. Tom and I stand on the sidewalk, gazing at each other.

Good byes are always too difficult.

My hand rests on my upper arm, squeezing it, trying to numb the pain of leaving him. He looks down at his feet nervously, swallowing, before glancing back up at me.

“Taylor…”

“I know, I’m going to miss you, too.”

His lips begin to pull into an uneasy smile, falter, pull more, but then press together in a firm line. “Yeah, and there’s something I need to tell you.”

I blink, batting my eyelashes. “Yeah? What is it? I mean, it can’t be so serious,” I laugh uneasily.

That fear is back. That fear is here—present. What do I do? _What do I do?_

“This isn’t the easiest thing to do…”

“Tom, just tell me. I’m sure whatever it is, everything will be fine.”

“We need to take a break, Taylor.

 _Nothing is ever easy. That’s what they say._  

I know this is such a cliché, but it’s like everything in the world just stopped after those words slipped out of his mouth. His eyes penetrate holes through my whole body as they look down at me sternly, his brow furrowed. His hands are in his pocket, concentrating on my reaction.

I feel like I’m drowning. My eyes glaze over, and I’m lost in a trance.

I start to slowly lower myself until I’m sitting on the curb, staring at the concrete road beneath my feet.

This feels all too familiar.

Tom lowers himself, sitting beside me, placing his hand gently on my lower thigh. Like it’s nothing—like this intimacy and love between us is nothing.

I snap suddenly, pulling my leg away from his touch. I scoot a little away from him, not daring to meet his gaze. I can feel my blood heating up.

“Taylor…”

The corners of my mouth twitch, and I lift my head up suddenly, looking at him. “No—no! Don’t you dare! Don’t just…touch me and act like you didn’t say what you just did!”

He’s hurt. Tom sighs, bringing his hand back to his lap, glancing down. He meets my eyes again. “I’m sorry. I just need a break, Taylor. It’s not you… 

I roll my eyes at him. “Then what else could it even be?" 

_I know you’re not far but I can’t handle all the distance._

“I just…” He pauses, letting the words come to him slowly. “I can’t take all the chaos—all the noise. I feel like I’m losing myself. I feel like I’m losing a sense of who I am, you know, because of the media…”

I don’t say anything.

“I don’t want to take you down with me because of that. I don’t want you to feel like you did in your last relationship. Everything is just shrouding my senses. You’ve been through too much already. I can’t bear to take you down this road with me…I just need to be able to figure myself out.” He waits for me to meet his gaze.

My face is hot. My tears that hit my cheeks are just as warm. My whole body is burning.

I’m on fire.

I look back at him, letting him see my watery blue eyes that make him flinch—that make him want to coil up because he can’t dare to see how much pain he’s making me feel.

“I know it hurts—I’m hurting, too, Taylor. Trust me. But if we don’t take this break so I can figure myself out, I’ll only hurt you mo—“

“No you wouldn’t have. I’m a big girl, Tom. I’m a woman. I can handle myself. I don’t need you doing that for me. I don’t need you trying to protect me only to stab my heart in the process.” I lash out.

He sighs, shaking his head. He runs his hand through his long locks of ginger hair, trying to reign in his emotions. “Taylor, we both don’t know that for sure.”

“Yeah, and we both don’t know if you doing this is saving me from more pain in the future, Tom. We’re not oracles,” I snap harshly.

“Please, Taylor, just understand I’m hurting, too…” Tom reaches out to take my hand. He has that I’m-a-poor-puppy-in-the-pound-please-adopt-me look in his eyes and I can’t take it. Not now.

“It was supposed to be just us.”

“I know—but you have to understand… 

Was it what your father said? Is this why you’re actually doing this?”

“What are you talking about? You mean when him and I were talking before we left to come back home last night?” Tom furrows his brow.

“What did he say?” I ask calmly. “I heard it—I heard the conversation. Not intentionally, but I did hear it. I heard you defend me—I don’t get what’s changed.”

He hesitates, trying to decide whether or not he should spare me from the truth. “I tried defending you, Taylor—I really did. But he was right, you know. Even though you and I are adults, maybe we can’t handle all of the pathetic things that come along with the media covering us. Maybe we still don’t have a grasp on who we are yet—“

His father said more after I stopped eavesdropping? His father kept bashing me, and Tom just…gave in?

“It’s not that. No it’s not that! What did he say at dinner?!”

Tom wrinkles his forehead. “What do you mean at dinner? He didn’t say anything!”

“He whispered something in your ear. He told you something and you changed—you changed after that. Just tell me, Thomas.” I urge—I’m desperate. I feel my heart breaking, inch by inch, within my chest. 

I can feel the shrapnel as it explodes hitting my chest, penetrating me, letting me bleed out dry here and now.

“Taylor…”

“Thomas, what did he say?! WHAT DID HE SAY?! I have a right to know!” My tears are streaming down my cheeks relentlessly.

He sighs, and doesn’t dare to meet my eyes and he says this. “That not only is our age difference problematic, but our maturity levels…”

So I’m immature now? Too immature for Tom? Is that it now?

I push myself off from the sidewalk, standing, smoothing out my jeans. Tom joins me, eyes on my face.

“But I swear—I promise Taylor, this break isn’t because of you. It’s because I need to find who I am again. I really do promise.”

“Yeah…yeah,” I say, bobbing my head up and down. I cross my arms over my chest, looking at him. My gaze is hardened—no emotions to find anywhere amongst my face.

That’s what his eyes are searching for anyway.

“Take your time. I understand,” I finish before I turn away and get into the back of the car.

He watches as the car drives off, standing there on the curb until we’re out of sight, hands buried in his pockets. 

* * *

 

As I sit on my flight back to New York in Tom’s plane, I can’t help but become nauseous as I gaze out the window. The thoughts of us—the memories of us—his hands on my body—my lips swollen from his tender kisses—they all fill my mind.

I shoot up from my seat, running straight for the bathroom in the back. I open and lock the door before I fall to the ground, hands on the base of the toilet.

I spill out nothing but stomach acid. I’m too numb to even eat. There’s nothing there—nothing to gag. But stomach acid comes out and burns the back of my throat and roof of my mouth.

I grab a towel from where I sit on the ground, wiping my lips.

I curl up in a ball, pulling my knees into my chest, and sob. I sob there, in the confines of this small bathroom on the plane, through the whole flight. I can’t get up. I’m frozen. 

_I’ve cried enough tears to see my reflection._

* * *

I make it back to my apartment where I drop my suitcase by the front door, too lazy to even roll it all the way to my room even.

My cats are gone—my parents are pet sitting them for me.

It’s just me in this empty, cold apartment. No one at my side. Not even through a text or phone call.

I walk to my room and strip off my clothes, pulling on my silk pajamas. I tie my hair in a loose ponytail.

I lift the covers up and bury myself under them. I lay there on my stomach under my mound of blankets

My arm is reached out, and I curl my hand into a fist. I release, then curl again.

Each time I curl my hand back into a fist, I squeeze together—and tighter—and tighter, until I draw blood.

I feel my sharp nails penetrate my skin, letting fresh blood ooze out.

My eyes are so swollen from crying I can’t cry more. That’s all I want to do right now. That’s all I feel like doing.

But I can’t even be granted that little.

_I heard a little love is better than none. Just let me have a little bit of your heart. It’s all I’m asking for._


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note for this chapter:
> 
> "Writing inspiration:
> 
> I’m in such an Arianna Grande mood. #sorrynotsorry
> 
> 'Best Mistake' and 'Love Me Harder.' Also '1,000 Ships' by Rachel Platten."

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks.

But it feels like it was just yesterday. 

I try to bake to clear my mind. I can’t get what I’m feeling down on paper in the form of song lyrics—not quite yet.

But usually when I try to bake, I end up crumpled up on my kitchen floor, bowl full of batter in hand, crying as I eat with my spoon. My cats will lie down next to me, purr, and rub their soft bodies against my exposed legs. 

But it’s not enough. I don’t know when it’ll be enough.

The sunshine somehow slips into my bedroom even though the curtains that are shut tight. I groan as it hits my face, waking me up this morning. I extend my arm and reach out for my phone that’s charging on my night stand. I grab it, looking through my notifications that I missed throughout the night. 

His name is on my screen. So simple—so sweet. That name I loved to spill off my lips in so many forms.

I unlock my phone and read his text.

 **TH, 3:49 A.M.:** How are you doing, love? I know it’s in the middle of the night there, and I hope this doesn’t disturb you, but I saw this and it made me think of you:

            _But that, so much of earth and water wrought,  
_ _I must attend time’s leisure with my moan,_ _  
__Receiving naught by elements so slow  
_ _But heavy tears, badges of either’s woe._  
                         - Shakespeare, Sonnet 44

My phone trembles in my hand. My eyes have tears built up in them. I don’t know how to take this—good that he misses me, and loves me still? Good that even though it’s been two weeks, he still hasn’t completely given up?

 **TS, 9:09 A.M.:** Hey! Don’t worry about it! I just woke up and didn’t see your text until now. I’m doing just fine. How about you? It’s nice to hear from you!

I can’t help but bite my lip before I even dare to press send. And after I do, I’m not sure why, but I cling to my phone. I hop out of bed, a little more pep in my step, and make sure my phone is tied to my hip.

I hear my text tone go off an hour later as I stand in my bathroom, fresh out of the shower in my robe, towel on my head. I feel so anxious—so energetic. It’s like a rush.

And it’s him again.

I open it, reading the contents.

 **TH, 10:32 A.M.:** I’m happy to hear that. Things are picking up over here. I just wanted to make sure you’re doing alright. How about we video chat some time?

             _My heart mine eye the freedom of that right.  
_ _My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie,  
_ _A closet never pierced with crystal eyes,  
_ _But that defendant doth that plea deny,  
_ _And says in him thy fair appearance lies,  
_ _To ‘cide this title is empanelled  
_ _A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart,  
_ _And by their verdict is determined,  
_ _The clear eye’s moiety and the dear heart’s par,  
_ _As thus: mine eye’s due is thy outward part,  
_ _And my heart’s right, thy inward love of heart._  
                         - Sonnet 46.

My heart races—even skips a beat. He still loves me. He still does despite the distance and timing. I can’t help but smile to myself as I read the words over and over again inwardly.

That’s when it hits me—two can play at this game.

In a rush, so much so that I scare Olivia whose sitting on my bathroom counter, I run over to my room and to my nightstand. I open the top drawer and take out the copy of all of Shakespeare’s sonnets that Tom gifted to me just a few months ago. I’ve read this thing inside and out—he was the one who got me hooked to Shakespeare, after all.

I thumb through it, fishing through the notes I wrote on each sonnet to find the one that fits how I feel about him perfectly.

 **TS, 11:00 A.M.:** I’d love that! What time? I’m sure we can work something out despite the time difference. I’m in New York, by the way.

 _So, love, be thou, although today thou fill  
_ _Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with fullness,  
_ _Tomorrow see again, and do not kill  
_ _The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness.  
_ _Let this sad int’rim like the ocean be  
_ _Which parts the shore, where two, contracted new,  
_ _Come daily to the banks, that when they see  
_ _Return of love, most blest may be the view,  
_ _Or call it winter, which being full of care,  
_ _Makes summer’s welcome, thrice more wished, more  
_ _rare._  
                               - Sonnet 56.

I grin to myself as I press the send button, and skip back in my robe to my bathroom too gleeful for someone who’s on a break with her boyfriend that she’s in love with.

_Break up, make up, total waste of time._

* * *

 

The next week carries on like this—us flirting via Shakespeare’s sonnets. I’m transformed into a closer version of the happy self I was before this break.

We even video chat a couple of times during this week of contact. His green eyes bear into my blue ones. I see flashes of nights when we’re under the sheets, giggling and smiling, his eyes trained on me.

I feel memories of his hands running along my skin, treasuring my body—feeling my long, lean legs that run on for miles, and I soak up his rough skin against mine.

Some times I’m brought back to the feeling of his goatee rubbing along my inner thighs, causing me to shiver and gasp in pleasure.

Other times, as we video chat and talk, I’m reminded of the fond memories we had indoors hiding out from the media—even us running around the streets of London. I’m reminded of how we acted like two wild teenagers, in love, and that’s all that mattered in the world.

We’re in our fourth week on break, and this is our fourth time video chatting. It’s like we’ve gone stronger—closer—since the break. I’m not sure what it is. I’m back to writing music, and he’s so wrapped up in his recent acting gigs but manages to make the time _for us_.

It’s 2 A.M. GMT. He’s back in his quiet home in London, lying in bed, wearing a forest green shirt. His laptop is propped on his lap, his arm behind his head as he relaxes. His hair is still long and ginger, with that goatee on, and his green eyes are even more prominent this evening.

It feels like I’m even there.

I lie in my bed, even though it’s in the middle of the day here, in my silk tank top and matching shorts pajamas. My laptop is also on my lap, and I gaze out at him. We chat, but there’s tension…not bad tension, but still tension.

“I miss you, Taylor,” he tells me.

“I miss you, too. You know that.”

Tom reaches over, taking his book of sonnets over. I wrinkled my forehead, confused, as I watch him thumb through the collection until he gets to a page that he dog-eared. He licks his lips, clears his throat, and begins to read aloud in a sultry, passionate, and lustful voice: 

            _Love is too young to know what conscience is,_

Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?  
Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss,  
Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove.  
For, thou betraying me, I do betray  
My nobler part to my gross body’s treason;  
My soul doth tell my body that he may  
Triumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason,  
But rising at thy name doth point out thee  
As his triumphant prize; proud of this pride,  
He is contented thy poor drudge to be,  
To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.  
No want of conscience hold it that I call  
Her ‘love’ for whose dear love I rise and fall.

I bite my lip, cheeks lighting up before I press my lips together, trying to stop from smiling. I’ve read that sonnet far too many times to know which one it is, and what it means. And this isn’t the first time he’d read it aloud to me. “Thomas William Hiddleston…! Are you insisting that we…?”

“Maybe,” He replies coyly.

My face grows hotter. “And through Sonnet 151 of all ways?” I narrow my eyes on him, shaking my head. I scoff at him—just the fact that he even did that…! Ah. I play with my long fingers, looking down from the computer screen, in contemplation.

“Okay! Okay!” I decide with a laugh. “It never hurts to try something new, now does it?” I raise a brow at him.

He grins back at me, tongue pointing out for a brief moment. “I don’t want to you to feel like I’m pressuring you into this, darling.”

“Tom, you don’t have to worry about that,” I reassure him. “And anyway…” My eyes flicker away from him for a brief moment. “I miss you in that way, too.”

“Oh really now?” He raises a brow before laughing at me.

“Of course! There goes that inflated ego of yours again,” I tease, sticking my tongue out playfully. He laughs at me again.

We get right to it. I put my laptop down on my bed, looking at him. I open up iTunes and start to play “Sex on Fire” by the Kings Of Leon.

I get out of bed, angle my laptop towards me, and step back so my full body is in view. I sway my hips to the beat, run my hands up and down my body. I embrace myself, turn my head to the side, hair flaring out around me. I shut my eyes, living up the music as it courses through my veins.

I throw my head back, mouth open, as my hands start at my hair, run down my neck and collarbones, down my breasts, stomach, all the way down to my calves. I rotate my hips, bend my knees, lowering myself slowly to the ground as I twist and turn.

Once I’m up straight, my hands go to the hem of my tank top. My eyes meet him, a smug smirk on my face. He’s staring at me, mouth gaped slightly open, eyes filled with lust.

I decide to give him a little strip tease. My hands slowly lift my tank top up and over my head, tossing it to the ground. I’m revealed to have on a blush, see-through with floral lace bra on. I run my hands up and down my waist and toss my head back.

“Love Somebody” comes on next, and I’m still going. My fingers slip to my shorts, lowering them down slowly. I bend down as I slide them off, moving my legs back and forth, shaking my bum in the air for him. I slide them off my feet and stand back up. I’m in a matching g-string with a small bow on the front, and he’s grinning deviously at me.

“Now,” I say in a sultry tone, “What do you want me to do next, Thomas?”

“Shake your ass for me,” He says, not even bothering to filter his speech.

I smile back at him, nose scrunching up. “Mm…someone wants to be dirty tonight,” I lick my lips.

I push my laptop back further on my bed to give me space to climb on. I come on my bed on all fours, crawling slowly towards the screen, eyes filled with longing and desire. I get up, stretching my body up, my arms above my head, as I rest on my knees and heels now. I bend my body back, arching my back, before I lie back against my heels, hands on my breasts.

I return to all fours and turn my behind towards the camera. I shake my butt back and forth to the beat of the music. I wish I could see his face—I bet he’s so livid right now at the sight of me. 

I can hear his rugged breathing, and I think I know what he’s up to. I turn back towards the camera to find him, hands down his pants, holding himself.

“Keep going,” He urges me, and I do as he says.

“Supersoaker” is on, and I decide to sit back on my heels. My hands come to the straps of my bra and lower them off my shoulders slowly. I reach behind my back, unclasping my bra with one quick motion. But I put my arms up to my breasts, catching my bra before it falls off as I smirk at him.

“Oh no!” He sighs, lying his head back against his headboard. “Taylor…”

“Take off your shirt,” I order. “Or you won’t get to see what lies underneath…”

His hand slips out from his pants and both of him strip his shirt off. His lean and toned abs are exposed to my liking, and I lick my lips at the sight. I bite down on my lip, letting my bra drop and slide off my arms. I swing it around playfully with a hand and toss it to the side beside me.

_If you want to keep me, you gotta love me harder_

“Lie down,” He order me sternly, nearly growling at me even. I shiver in bliss at his dominant side surfacing that I love.

I lie down on my back as he says, laptop facing my side.

“Grab your breasts and start pleasing yourself.”

My hands come to my breasts, kneading and massaging them to my liking. I moan softly in response.

“Now touch yourself.”

One hand stays on my breast, massaging it, while the other slips down to my heat, running it along my slit through my panties. I sigh aloud.

“Are you hard for me?” I echo back to him, wanting to hear his desire and want for me.

“Oh, like you wouldn’t believe.”

I lick my lips, and my hand slips under my g-string, going to my nub. I start to rub it in circles rhythmically.

“Yeah? How hard, Tom?”

“I’m aching for you, Taylor.” I hear him groan, and my eyes glance to the screen. I see his large cock out, his hand rubbing up and down it, eyes focused on me. I grow wet just at the sight.

“I wish you were here to fuck me,” I sigh, putting more pressure on my labia as I rub faster—harder.

“How wet are you?”

“Soaking,” I sigh aloud, and I can feel myself coming closer.

“Finger yourself for me. Act like it’s my hard, large cock inside of you.”

My slide off my g-string and toss it on the carpet. My hand stays on my clit, my other coming to my entrance. I rub my fingers up and down my slit before I insert on finger slowly, feeling my walls clench impossibly tight around it. I moan out loud. 

“Another,” He orders.

I add my middle finger, moaning louder. My back arches, pelvis thrusting up in response. I curl the tips of my fingers. “Oh, Tom!”

Tom moans, rubbing himself faster. He tosses his head back, eyes closing tight.

“Cum for me, Taylor. Cum with me!”

_When I get you moaning you know it’s real_

I rub harder—fuck myself harder and faster. My eyes roll back in my head, my back keeps arching, and I keep thrusting up. It’s becoming too much—becoming so overwhelming. “Tom—TOM!” I gasp aloud, feeling my walls clench down around my digits, juices spilling out and coating my fingers, dripping down the inside of my thighs.

I hear him join me not long after, my name escaping his lips with one loud groan. I watch him cum—watch as he tosses his had back just slightly, eyes shut tight, his mouth somehow a mix between a large and blissful “O” and a smile. He squirts out and grabs a tissue, wrapping it around his cock to wipe off his cum as it spills out.

I turn over so I’m on my side facing him, making sure he’s looking at me now. I bring my wet fingers to my mouth and put them all the way in, tongue swirling, licking up my juices, and I bring them out slowly. Once they come out I make a popping sound with my mouth that he loves to hear every time I go down on him.

_Can you feel the pressure between your hips?_

“Taylor…that was amazing,” Tom sighs aloud, staring at his ceiling. He’s so relieved—so calm and at ease. I can see just how stressed and tired he’s been as of late because of work. Maybe from searching for himself, too.

“Tell me about it,” I shut my eyes, a light laugh escaping from me. Meredith jumps on my bed, curling up by my legs. I can feel her nuzzling my soft skin.

“We ‘ought to do this again some time.”

“Let me know when. I’m down.”

* * *

It’s been three months since he asked for a break. I can’t help but wonder how much longer we’re going to carry on like this. We send texts to each other to check up and see how the other is doing. We Skype, and send sonnets still.

I feel so close yet so far away. I feel the riptides taking over me slowly.

We bump into each other at parties some times—we do have a mutual circle of friends, after all. It’s kind of inevitable. We chat like nothing has happened—I don’t even know if anyone has even noticed that we’ve been on break. 

We get drunk. We leave together—go back to one of our places, and fuck. I wonder which one of us is drinking away the pain—using sex to numb the pain. 

Since we went on break, this has happened four times now, excluding our little video chat session. 

_Can we please make up our minds? And stop acting like we’re blind?_

I don’t even know what’s going on anymore—what our status is. Are we back together? Are we still on break? Is he still finding himself out there in this vast world of ours? Does he even have the time to with how hectic his work schedule is now?

I don’t even know. But I just want to try again.

But what do I do if I can’t figure it out?

* * *

It’s been four months since we went on our break.

I still wear his necklace. I wear it around my neck with pride while I hold my head up high, walking out and about in New York, L.A., and London.

I see photos of him and he stills wears his, too. We still chat, and text. But I can feel it becoming…less. I can feel it breaking. I can feel my happiness slowly slipping away from the tips of my fingers in the process.

I want to be there with him so he can see me looking at him lovingly—see how much I don’t care about the paparazzi—what the media says—what his pretentious father says. I want to see him gazing back at me, his green eyes filled with the same emotions.

I want to run my hands over his goatee, feeling the roughness of his facial hair against my hands. I haven’t been able to do that since last month the last time we bumped into each other at a mutual friend’s party, got drunk, and fucked yet again.

_I’ll be here waiting. I’ll always be the same, if you let me in again._

* * *

Four months. Four long, treacherous months. Four heartbreaking and yearning months. How much longer is it going to take for him to come back to me?

* * *

Another week passes by, and he’s hardly texting me now. We hardly talk. He says it’s because of his busy schedule, but somehow I doubt it, considering he’s managed to chat with me at least once a day and his schedule is just as hectic still.

I can feel him slipping away from me.

* * *

Four and a half months now. I only hear from him a few times a week now.

I’m panicking—worrying. I feel the hopelessness sink back in, dragging me down.

I’ve began to grow my hair back out again. Something feels different—I don’t feel like this cropped, short hair fits me any longer. It now sits an inch or two past my shoulders. I keep my bangs swept to the side how I love them. I feel myself changing with the season, as this never-ending break continues on, seeming to torture me. He’s torturing me.

I’ve been writing the most depressing music as of late. It’s not like me at all. I’m in a stump without him. I’ve come to realize even further that he holds my whole heart in his hands—that I’m not the same without him.

It’s not that I’m nothing without him. I’m still whole—still me—still the independent, strong, Taylor I’ve always been. I don’t need a man to complete me. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not hurting on the inside—not crying out, screaming as I reach out towards him.

He’s pulling away from me—willingly, at that. And I don’t know what to do.

_‘Cause I have sailed a thousand ships to you, but my messages don’t seem to make it through._


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to give this to you all early since I won’t be able to update on Tuesday because I’ll be at a Maroon 5 concert in San Jose (most likely drunk off my ass tbh lol)
> 
> Written to: “Weeds” by Marina and the Diamonds.
> 
> Her new album is providing me with so much writing inspiration it’s unbelievable.

I walk with my head down now in public.

I don’t smile nearly as often as I should—as I use to.

I sit on my bed and it’s midnight. I’m on my laptop, scrolling through the recent photos taken of me within the last two days in New York. My head is down, eyes not meeting the cameras. And in each photo my fingers play with the small pendant that lays upon my chest that’s from him—that reads “just us." 

I swallow. It’s in this moment that I realize I’m doing the same thing again—my fingers rubbing the small scroll pendant, playing around with it unconsciously.

I go back to photos from last year where my smile was the biggest it’s ever been—shining so radiantly back at me. Back when I found myself again.

I realize who I’ve become now. I’ve become that girl I vowed I would never turn into yet again.

I type in his name into Google, and pull up the most recent photos of him at the red carpet and some candid shots. He still wears his necklace.

But he smiles while I don’t.

My stomach twists and turns, and I’m not sure how to feel about this.

_Could have filled a garden with all the flowers you gave me.  
_ _But none of them were ours._

* * *

 

Another four months pass by. _Another goddamn, forsaken 4 months pass by_.

I haven’t heard from him in two months, to top it off. Not a single word.

I sit on my bed in my pajamas. It’s 2 A.M. and I can’t sleep yet again from the nightmares that you haunt me in.

_You haunt me. I can never escape from the hold you have on me._

I type in “Tom Hiddleston,” trying to see what comes up. It’s what I do every night—this is my routine.

My eyes flicker through all the recent photos of you, and I’m searching—searching for your pendant. Because I know as long as you wear it still, there’s hope—just a bright, shining ray of hope that penetrates my mind and fills me with bliss.

It’s not there.

I grow frantic, clicking, eyes searching endlessly, trying to find even a slight hint of it.

It’s not there.

My heartbeat is erratic. I can feel it jumping out of my chest, and my eyes are bulging out. They’re as wide as dinner plates—bright and blue, yet full of death and emptiness.

It’s not there.

_At least you taught me how to love. But you keep growing back like weeds._

I choke. Sudden tears rush down my cheeks, and I slap my hand over my mouth to muffle my sobs. My other arm wraps around my torso, and my body trembles as my painful crying takes over me.

Maybe I’m embracing myself for comfort. But I don’t feel it—I don’t feel any comfort. Not even from myself.

The whites of my eyes are bright red as my sobbing wracks through my body, shaking me violently. Every inch of me trembles and I hunch over. But even through the hand that’s over my mouth—even though I have it there so no one can hear my vulnerability—my sounds of heartbreak and agony come out loud and clear.

Not even muffled. You can still hear it. And it makes my chest feel impossibly darker, and void.

I can feel him taking it in his large gorgeous hands, and holding my vital organ that pumps the very blood through my body that I need to keep me alive, in his hands.

I can feel him squeezing it slowly to drag out the pain—to drag out my death as much as possible.

I can see his sadistic smile on his face telling me he’s taking pleasure in the sight of me heaving and sobbing over him.

My hands reach to the back of my neck, and I unclip the necklace he gave me so many months back when we were filled with hope, optimism, and so much life.

It slips from my neck and falls into my lap. I’m quiet. The tears have stopped.

My eyes glaze over.

_And I just don’t know what I can do. I thought I cut him at the root._

I stop wearing his necklace.

I let my hair continue to grow longer, and I keep my side-swept bangs. I don’t smile as often as I deserve to—I don’t feel as happy as I should be.

All the music I write only shatters my heart again and again.

I know it’s over. He doesn’t need to say it—I know. He knows. We all know. There’s no doubting—no questions—nothing. There’s not a single chance for us to pick back up again like he said we would do.

Like he kept saying over and over again that he wanted to.

Karlie is there for me, and so is The Agency—especially Grant. Everyone is there for me.

But I can’t even bother to be there for myself.

Instead, I made a friend with benefits. I called him later that night after seeing that Tom stopped wearing his pendant—his half of _our_ necklace. Calvin Harris, you know? It’s a mutual want. I mean, I’m not a giant slut. But I only use him to hook up when I need it, and fuck I’ve been needing it lately.

If anything, it makes me feel whole in those moments of intimacy. Even though Calvin doesn’t measure up to him—and never will—I feel whole for just a second, and that’s enough to get me by for now. go out with him to concerts, hand-in-hand, and take him to award shows with me every now and then. But he’s not the same. But this is what’s getting me by for now.

For now.

_And God knows that sex is a way to feel a bit, a little bit less lonely._

I sit at my laptop, and it’s 1 A.M. This is my nightly routine.

It’s been a week since I stopped wearing his necklace. It’s been a week since I started hooking up with Calvin. At least I feel warmth during our moments of desire.

I type in his name again into Google, and I don’t like what I see this time.

I see the first article, and it’s from _The Washington Post_ , which headlines with, “Tom Hiddleston moving on from Taylor Swift? New beauty on his arms! What’s happened to Taylor Swift?”

All the articles that follow have something along the same lines as that.

I click on the article, and read through the details. There are photos of them at one of his movie premieres that happened last night. She wears a tight, black lace and somewhat see-through dress. She has long, dark brown hair that cascades down to her waist, and no bangs. She’s short and thin with a nice ass and tits. She’s everything I’m not.

They’re kissing.

They’re holding each other in a loving embrace.

He looks at her the same way he use to look at me.

He does all the things he use to do to me.

Her name is Joy Sterling, and they’re dating. Apparently she’s some humanitarian lawyer who works for the U.S. Navy JAGS Corps. I Google her name to find out more.

I stalk her through articles on the web, and Wikipedia. She does a lot work with other nations on human rights violations caused by the U.S. and she’s top in the country for her work. She’s had some important cases she’s worked, and at one point in her career she even got to argue in front of the Supreme Court.

Joy is a professor at Harvard Law School and ravels to do seminars and speeches around the world—from Paris, to London, to South Africa, etc. She goes everywhere for her work.

I don’t cry. I don’t scream and throw my pillows across my room and break down.

I sit still. I stare. I chew the inside of my cheek while I’m wrapped up in my thoughts.

I grab my phone that sits beside me, and call him.

“Hey, Calvin, are you busy tonight?”

_Just open your eyes to see. He’s growing from inside me._


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note for this chapter:
> 
> "I have SO MANY FEELS FOR “HOW” BY MAROON 5 DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED
> 
> Thus, this chapter has been inspired by this song. This is my second fave song by them oh my goodness I LOVE IT SO MUCH ugly cries as I eat out of a pint of Ben and Jerry’s
> 
> I love you all, and I’m feeling so inspired by the Maroon 5 concert, which is why I’m gifting you with all of these chapters early. YOU’RE WELCOME"

Two more months. _It’s been another two months._

Thus, bringing the grand total of how long it’s been since we went on “break” being 10 months. But it’s been four months since we last spoke—four long months since he called it quits without even saying a word to me.

And I’ve just started to move on with my life. 

My hair is long and wavy, bangs brushed to the side. My look has changed for this new era in my life that I’ve begun to emerge into. 

I’m in the studio, headphones over my ears, recording one of the songs off my next album that I’ve been working on. I’m belting out the lyrics, focusing on my emotions and the lyrics, when my phone starts to ring that’s in my pocket.

I blink my eyes and wrinkle my forehead in confusion. I look over at Nathan Chapman and Max Martin who stand on the other side of the studio, who I can see through the clear glass. Their raising their hands in the air angrily at me, and I can hear Nathan cut off the music in my headphones and say into the speaker, “Just answer it!”

I grumble, quickly shoving my headphones off and reaching for my phone. I catch it on the very last ring, putting it to my ear in a rush. I didn’t even bother to check the caller ID. “Hello?” 

“Hello, Taylor,” The weak voice croacks out, and a familiar chuckle comes at the end, only awkward and choppy this time because of his coughing. That sweet—oh-so sweet “ehehe.”

I freeze. I feel my face drain of blood, and my flushed cheeks from the warmth and energy I had from singing is gone all at once.

My eyes are wide. I swallow. I hesitate, stuttering with, “um” a few times before I cut off my nervous voice. And just as fast as it went away, the blood is back to my face, and I’m burning red.

_Burning red._

“How have you been, darling…?”

I’m not use to hearing this voice—this weak voice that is gruff and barely managing to be produced by his vocal chords. He sounds so hoarse.

_Nothing can save me but the sound of your voice. You cut out all the noise._

“Tom,” I say, wrinkling my forehead. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

There goes that chuckle again, but it’s not the same. Nothing lasts forever.

“Just in a bit of a pickle, I suppose,” He replies.

“I’m worried. About you.”

“Taylor,” He pauses. I can hear him lick his lips, throat grow dry before he dares to finish what he was going to say. “Could you come to London—to see me? I hate to ask this of you, but I need you…”

It’s quiet. 

I don’t know what to think—what to do. What do I do? _What do I fucking do?_

“What happened?”

There’s no smile—no laugh from him. Not for the subject matter he’s about to say.

“I got in a car crash on the way to the BAFTA Awards last night. Taylor, I—“

“I’m on my way,” I say and hang up on him.

_I never thought about you much ‘til I’m broken down and all alone._

* * *

 

It takes me 12 long hours, but I get there. I don’t take a break—I don’t sleep even though I’m dying from the jetlag and look like an utter and complete disaster. I book it straight to the London Bridge Hospital where he’s recovering.

After a nurse guides me to his room, I enter as calmly as possible. I creep in, just in case he’s asleep. I don’t want to stir him from his slumber.

But he’s awake—light blue eyes barely open, but an ecstatic grin surfaces on his face.

He has a few, small white bandages covering stitches on his face where he was cut—one on his forehead, opposite of the scar on the left side of his forehead that I’ve memorized and run over my fingertips countless times. Another is on the right side of his jawline, and another just below his right eye on that lovely cheekbone of his.

His right arm is in a cast that’s hoisted up, and his left knee is wrapped with an ace bandage on and elevating.

“Hey,” He croaks weakly at me.

“Tom,” I wrinkle my forehead and purse my lips, soaking in all the damage done to him. “How are you feeling? You should be asleep…” 

“Don’t worry so much about me, love,” His smile grows wider. “I’m recovering.”

I motion towards his knee, wondering what happened there since everything else speaks for itself. “What happened to your knee? How did the accident happen?”

“Taylor, take a seat,” Tom urges.

_I’m asking for your help—I am going through hell._

As I walk over to a computer chair that’s to the side of his room, I say, “I am, I am. But explain!”

I grab the back of the seat and roll it towards the side of his hospital bed, and take my seat right beside him. He reaches out and grabs my hand, squeezing it, and placing it on his chest. I can’t help but squeeze back. His thumb strokes my skin.

“It’s so silly, really,” He begins. “Just a taxi ran into our car on the way down, but the others cars behind it hit each other one after the other, pushing our small compact car further. One of the cars spun out of control in one of the lands next to us, and hit our car. I blacked out from there.” He sighs.

“And your knee?”

“Torn meniscus and ACL.” 

“Will you still be able to run? I know how much you love it…”

“Oh yes! I start physical therapy in a few weeks…I just need to give it time, you know?” His eyes are glued to mine, taking in my form.

“I just want to make sure,” I give him a quick smile. “I know you’re a trooper, Tom,” My smile fades now.

It’s quiet—too quiet now. It’s slightly tense even.

“You’ve grown out your hair,” He says.

“Tom,” My eyes are cast aside. “Why did you call me?” I meet his gaze with my stern and cold eyes.

_I have been searching for your touch unlike any touch I’ve ever known._

“I wanted to see you. I needed you, Taylor.” He furrows his brow, and that stupid crease between his eyebrows that I love is very much present.

“You have a girlfriend.”

The crinkle is gone, and his forehead is relaxed. But his eyes are wide. “…how did you know?”

I scoff at the question. “Who doesn’t know? You didn’t have to say anything. I saw it everywhere I turned on the news—the tabloids—from our mutual friends.” I look away from hi, because for some reason I can’t even gather the courage to say this while he’s gazing at me with those leafy green eyes of his. “It’s not like you even told me anything, anyway.”

“Taylor…If you would give me a—" 

“A chance? Is that what you want no? _A chance_?” Now I have that crease in between my eyebrows as I narrow my eyes on his. I take my hand back from his grasp. I have the courage to say what comes out of my mouth now. “The last thing I owe _you_ is a chance—you had that four months ago.” 

“We broke up two months ago.”

I blink my eyes.

“We barely lasted even that. It was the media—all of the shit that happened with the tabloids, cameras, and reporters. She wasn’t use to it—couldn’t handle it. And in the end, even my dad wasn’t pleased with her. Even she wasn’t enough for him.”

Well, that sounds all too familiar. 

“I miss you. I’ve missed you so much. I’m so sorry, Taylor. I just wanted to be able to tell you that.” And there it is—that crinkle in between his eyebrows yet again that now matches the one on my face I’ve had for these past few moments.

_I can see my mistakes so clearly now._

I’m not over him. I’m not fully over him. But this is old news—I’ve known this all along.

But what I realize in this moment—what the new news is—is that I will never be able to move on from him. Not from his warm and gentle touch—not from his soothing and sweet words—not from our laughs and joyous memories.

_I have been bound by the shackles of love._

I stand up from my seat. His jaw drops, afraid that I’m about to walk out now. He knows I’m going to leave him now—turn my back and never see or talk to him again.

But I lean over instead, and press my lips to his in a sweet and loving kiss, my hand on the right side of his cheek where he has that new cut on his face.

I feel him stiff beneath my lips, still in shock, but then I can feel him kiss me back and bring his hand to my face to caress me gently.

I break our kiss, and I can feel cool tears on my skin. Why am I such a wimp? I can’t help but smile and laugh at myself as I stand hovering above him, and he’s laughing back at me. Tom’s fingers wipe away my tears gently. 

He wiggles a little to the side, creating just enough room for me to join him. And I do. I climb onto his hospital bed pressed up against his side, head resting on his chest that rises and falls with his every breath. I shut my eyes, listening to his slow heartbeat quicken. He runs his hands through my now long hair, and I think he’s reminiscing too.

I think he’s remembering home, too.

I lay like this all night with him. I don’t want the sun to rise—I don’t want to go.

But nothing lasts forever.

_I don’t mind if I die tied up._

* * *

 

But the sun does rise. And I do need to fly back to California.

I’m in my clothes from yesterday still, and we’re about to part ways. I lean in to give him a goodbye kiss, but his voice stops me.

“We shouldn’t.” 

“What?” My mouth is agape, and I straighten back up, looking at him quizzically.

“I mean, just to clear things up…we’re still friends…okay?” His forehead wrinkles, worried about my reaction—my emotions. But I don’t say anything, so he continues on, “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said and done all that I did last night. I just—“

My eyes are looking straight ahead at his direction, yes, but he’s not what I’m looking at. I don’t blink. I’m focused on the pristine white sheets on his bed and describing to myself in various ways what they look like. _White—bright and white, like how your sheets look fresh out of the dryer. I wonder if they smell like home._ I’m void of emotions. My eyes rest on those sheets. I don’t feel. I can’t feel. Too numb. Just too damn numb after being dragged through not mud—not dirt—but the sharp rocks you would find on Mount Everest. Cut—dirty—torn to shreds—so torn there’s nothing there anymore. A parent would have bought their child a new rag doll by now.

_Why must we be so ugly? Please do not think ill of me.  
_ _Why does the one you love become the one who makes you want to cry?_

“I know, I understand.”

I meet his eyes and nod my head. I grab my purse sitting on the chair I used the day before, and walk towards the doorway.

Before I leave, I look back at him. I want to see him gazing lovingly at me, but he looks solemn. “I’ll see ya around,” I wave my hand briefly, no smile on my face, and leave. 

I don’t turn back.

Little do I know, his face faltered as he waited for me to turn back like I always do—waiting to meet my gaze one last time because goodbyes have always been so difficult for us.

But I don’t. I didn’t. And I never will again.

_Why? **And how?** **How?**_


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note for this chapter:
> 
> "Music Inspiration: a mix of “It Was Always You” and “Just A Feeling” by Maroon 5
> 
> So the song by Taylor was based off (mainly—I ended up writing a few of the lyrics but I suck at writing songs lol) “Sweet Dreams” by Austin Kyle and “Stay Just A Little” by Kina Grannis."

I’m not going to lie, the last three months leading up to today has been difficult.

I spent a lot of days on my shower floor, crying because I couldn’t distinguish the tears from the water hitting my skin. I didn’t feel so weak.

That was the first week.

The three weeks after, I wasn’t even there. It was in my eyes—just how numb and empty I felt. Just how low I felt.

I was at my lowest, and I lost control.

I had a lot of music I wrote, though—a lot which I recorded in the studio with tears streaming down my face.

_No sunshine.  
_ _It’s the way she seems to stare right through my eyes.  
_ _I refused to run away from the love I tried so hard to save._

By the time it was month two, something inside me changed. I sat on my kitchen floor one night, a glass of chardonnay in my hand as Meredith and Olivia cuddled in my lap. The gears turned—something registered in my mind, and I’m not sure what it was.

But it caused me to get up suddenly, causing my cats to jolt up, as I ran to my room to grab my notebook and I hurriedly wrote down the lyrics running through my mind.

_Woke up sweating from a dream with a different kind of feeling._

* * *

It’s now been three months, and here I am—the day of my album release. You can probably guess who the muse has been for this album.

It’s a whole different sound, though. It’s a heart breaking, yet so sweet mix of my previous albums _Red_ and _1989,_ but with it’s own music style: acoustic-pop. It’s all acoustic. It’s like nothing I’ve ever done before.

I just finished the usual Yahoo! Live Broadcast of me performing my songs that I always have on the night of a new album release is in the midst of going on.

I walk off the stage, my long and wavy hair blowing back as I stride in my high waist sequin shorts and matching crop top in heels. I’m greeting my fans that I invited, most from Tumblr and Twitter. I take photos, and I’m smiling and laughing.

I’m a new and transformed Taylor, just like I had been at the release of _1989_. I’m myself.

_Green eyes—I was so color blind. We were just wasting time._

I see him from afar—that goatee is gone, along with his long ginger hair. It’s cropped short now, a little puffy, and he has a lot of stubble. It’s more of a medium brown now.

I can see his piercing green eyes even from this distance. He looks so tapper—dressed in a navy blazer and light blue V-neck shirt, jeans, and oxfords. So gorgeous. One hand is in the pocket of his pants, the other holding a glass of scotch.

I freeze for a moment, but god no—it doesn’t effect me at all. I go back to carrying on with the fans I was conversing with, and none of them had realized.

I don’t think anyone here has realized that he’s standing there, eyes glued to me, watching my every move—waiting—waiting for me to acknowledge his existence.

_No more guessing who._

I wrap up my conversations, and I find myself walking over in his direction with confident and long strides—my held up high.

He shifts his stance, straightening his clothes, swallowing. I can see all of his nerves—for once, he’s the nervous one here for one of our confrontations. He props his elbow holding his drink on the stone wall that surrounds the top of the Empire State Building.

I close the distance we had from being all the way on other sides of the rooftop. But I stop a few feet away from him.

“Hey stranger,” I say nonchalantly, because it’s nothing—this has no meaning—no effect on me.

Not at all.

_Can’t believe I couldn’t see it all this time._

“Your songs—they’re brilliant, Taylor. You were so magnificent up on stage!” Tom smiles, turning so now he leans against the same wall. He brings the glass of scotch up to his lips, taking a sip.

“Thanks,” I say and give a small and quick close-lipped smile. “You look better.”

“Full recovery—back to running five miles and everything,” He nods his head. 

“Well, I just finished for the evening,” I bite my lip. I mean—fuck, what am I doing?! I can’t justify this at all…now how things ended.

Not how we left them off.

“I wouldn’t want you to waste the trip you made all the way out here. Why don’t you come back to my apartment for a cup of tea?” I ask.

Shit. SHIT! SHIT! What’s my problem?

I always knew I would never fully move on—known it since that night in the hospital. That’s why…right?

_All day long my heart was beating, searching for the meaning._

We’re friends. That’s why I’m doing this.

Because that’s what friends do.

“That would be great, actually,” Tom flashes me a smile. He puts down his glass on a nearby table.

And we just take off like that—like normal—like actual friends.

* * *

After we sit down at my kitchen island, putting sugar and cream into our tea, I change the topic of conversation.

“So why are you here? Really, Tom.”

He stops tending to his tea, hands coming down to his lap. Our barstools are turned towards each other, and his eyes aren’t meeting mine.

“I want to apologize for how I was—what I did and said—how things were left off." 

“Tom…it’s fine…”

“No, it’s not,” His voice is stern, eyes narrowed on me—so bright, filled with so much emotion. I haven’t seen them like this in over a year now. He’s captured my full attention now.

“I realized something after you left the hospital that morning. I realized just how much of an twat I was being—how horribly I was treating you, and why.” Tom drums his fingers against his lap, swallowing stiffly. He’s filled with so much anxiety it’s obvious in the smallest things—to his constant flickering eyes as thoughts come in and out of his mind—to his somewhat labored breathing.

“My heart wasn’t satisfied—not with you—oh God, no! But with _myself_ and my father’s expectations and cruel words. I wasn’t firm—wasn’t strong enough not even for the two of us, but for myself. I couldn’t see it that whole time until you left that morning because I realized how much I crossed the line. I realized it by that look in your eye.”

I’m still silent. Listening in pure silence.

“You didn’t look back at me like you always do when we part ways. That’s when I knew how much I’ve been damaging your heart, Taylor. Not only my own heart with how weak I was being, but _your heart, Taylor_.”

My eyes are downcast, and I’m too lost in my thoughts to respond.

“The reason why it never worked with Joy was because I still hadn’t realized this. And even with her—even with her, it didn’t work because of how uncertain and wavering I was with myself, and with my father. I’ve been beating myself up for so long what I’ve done and said to you. I hit my low. There wasn’t any sunshine. But I know now, Taylor. I know now—I’m so certain know. I feel it in every ounce of my being, deep down to the center of my core. I know it now. There’s sunshine now.”

I suck in a breath, and my eyes meet his. “There hasn’t been anyone since you, Tom. Never had the chance—not until just recently.”

It’s like he can’t stop repeating my name—can’t stop at all. I find myself being sucked into the sound of it all over again.

“Taylor, _it was always you. Looking back now, I know it was always you_.”

“Stay here,” I stand up from my seat and rush off in a hurry, still dressed in my outfit from the livestream.

I emerge a minute later with my guitar I’ve had since I launched my debut album over ten years ago. I sit back down on the barstool, steadying it on my lap, holding it in my arms. “I wrote this last year, just few months after I left London that morning. You won’t find it on the album—I just couldn’t bear to share this with the world.”

It starts off slow, the melody coming in as I strum the guitar strings. I hum in the beginning, mimicking his heart beat that I have memorized all too well. Then the lyrics fall out off my lips with the same passion I had those nights and days I spent singing my broken heart out, my cheeks stained with tears as my mother watched me revert back to who I promised I would never be again.

But I’m strong now.

Two hearts  
Two souls  
Intertwined and connected with a red string of fate  
Of love  
But we're miles and miles apart  
[chorus] Sweet dreams, baby  
Wherever you are  
Sweet dreams, you're my shooting star  
Please know that I'm waiting, I'm waiting for you  
So let the wind blow,  
But we won't fall.  
We've come so far. [end chorus]   
Your name slips off my lips  
Just a name that's repeating  
And baby, that's you.  
Stay, just stay. Please don't leave me hanging to dry  
Because I'm so filled up and covered in your love  
[chorus] Sweet dreams, baby  
Wherever you are  
Sweet dreams, you're my shooting star  
Please know that I'm waiting, I'm waiting for you  
So let the wind blow,  
But we won't fall. We've come so far. [end chorus]  
[bridge] One night I lay in your bed,

Two green eyes illuminated by the moonlight  
“I think I'm in love," you say, "with you."  
I can hear it in your voice--I can see it on your face  
And that's just enough  
"I love you, too," I say  
[chorus] Sweet dreams, baby  
Wherever you are  
Sweet dreams, you're my shooting star  
Please know that I'm waiting, I'm waiting for you  
So let the wind blow,  
But we won't fall.  
We've come so far. [end chorus]  
It kills me as I lay awake at night,  
Remembering the last kiss we shared.  
Would you stay just a little, my love?  
Would you sway just a little, my love?  
If you stay just a little, that's enough.

Once I finish the song, I set my guitar down on the counter gently before turning my direction back to Tom.

He’s hurt—his face is so pained. I only made him feel worse for all that’s happened, I realize now, by playing that song.

But he deserved to hear it. He needed to hear it—needed to know further. 

I furrow my brow, eyes trained on him through the impenetrable silence that we’re being succumbed by.

“Taylor, I want to get back together,” He says finally. But he doesn’t grab my hand like before in the past.

“I understand if you need time to think about it—think about everything. I know it’s a lot to soak in. I also understand if you don’t want to get back together, and I wouldn’t blame you at all. But I’m an optimist, you know that. I’m willing to try again. I want to give you my all again. You’ve never left my mind for a single fleeting moment, darling.” 

I purse my lips, unsure of what to say.

Tom stands up, gazing down at me with forgiving and sad eyes. “ _I’ve never told you a lie, so why would I start tonight_?”

He walks away, showing himself out, leaving me to sit on my barstool still, staring down at the hardwood floors of my apartment in thought.

_You may not believe me but I gave you all I had.  
Undress—confess that you’re still mine.  
_ _So much to say._


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note for this chapter:
> 
> "Written to: “Drops of Jupiter” by Train (I know, I know). But for the smut, it’s written to “Never Gonna Leave This Bed”, “Coming Back For You”, “Leaving California”, and “She Will Be Loved” by Maroon 5.
> 
> ALAS! The last chapter has come. I hope you all enjoyed this two-part series oh-so much! I sure did enjoy writing it. 
> 
> Don’t worry—you still have “Assassin” that’s in progress, and I will for sure keep writing Hiddleswift works, along with Tom/OC and Taylor/OC works."

I didn’t talk to him the next day.

Or the day after that. 

And even after that.

I didn’t text him—I didn’t call him—nothing. No contact whatsoever.

It’s been a busy week for me, what with my album release and all. But it’s now day seven, and I sit on my private jet on the way to London.

_Now he’s back from that soul vacation._

I’m dropped off by the cab I hailed at the airport across the street from his house, and I notice that even a year later it hasn’t changed at all. Maybe we both haven’t changed all that much either.

I mean, the love is still there at the core. 

I walk across the street, up his driveway, and weave my way through the garden in front of his house, two coffees in my hands. I walk up to the two steps that lead up to his porch, and ring his doorbell with one of my knuckles.

I wait for what seems like eons.

_Tracing his way through the constellation._

The door creaks open hesitantly, revealing him dressed in sweats, gazing at me with wide eyes. Meanwhile, I have a cheeky smirk plastered across my face that I can’t help but turn into a smile.

“Hey stranger,” I say just like last time, and I feel my nose wrinkle as my smile grows wider.

He’s gawking at me like he’s in disbelief that I’m even here in front of him, on his porn, in London—in disbelief that I’m even real—that I even exist—that, perhaps, I’m solely a figment of his imagination and this entire time he’s been in an insane asylum suffering from paranoid schizophrenia.

But now that would be preposterous.

“Taylor,” Tom finally acknowledges me. His hair is a wild mess, telling me he didn’t have any plans today considering it’s already 6 P.M. “You’re in London…?”

“Just thought I would drop by the area,” I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly.

“C-Come in! Make yourself at home!” Tom stands to the side, ushering for me to come inside. But I shake my head.

“Let’s sit outside and enjoy the warm summer air,” I say motioning with my head towards his bench that sits on his porch.

He nods his head, shutting the door behind him. “Let me take that off your hands,” Tom says, carefully taking one of the coffees from me, taking a seat on one side of his tiny, wooden bench. I sit beside him, leaving little space between us.

“I got your usual—one iced black coffee with two sugars and two teaspoons of cream,” I say with a smile.

“You remembered? After all this time?”

_Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day?_

“There’s a lot of things I still remember,” I say, pressing my lips together, smile fading.

Now it’s his turn to ask me. “Why are you here?”

I look away from him, and down to the ground at my heels, trying to figure out the words. I had recited them to myself over and over again on that treacherous flight here, but now I’m forgetting everything I wanted to say.

“I mean, I just expected that—“

“You said take a little time, and I did.”

“Ah.”

“And I’m ready,” I look back up at him. As the sun sets, the golden rays hit our direction, and I can see my eyelashes match the same shade of gold in my vision. But it doesn’t blind me. “But it’s either all or nothing with me this time, you got that? Either you’re all in, and you won’t change your mind on me repeatedly again, or it’s if you’re even still slightly unsure I don’t want to give it another shot.”

He nods his head firmly, lips pressed together in a firm line. A different ray of sunshine is on his face, illuminating those pale green eyes that I love so dearly.

“I’m all in, Taylor.”

And I can see it in his face again—see it in this eyes that gaze at me so lovingly like they use to. That’s all it takes. That’s all it takes.

_Did you fall for a shooting star?_

I nod my head, looking at him back with the same emotions. I reach over and take his hand in mine, squeezing it. Tom laces our fingers together, and gives me a reassuring squeeze himself. I smile, and somehow I find myself giggling. He chuckles at my reaction.

I feel like a teenager in love all over again—just like we were before.

“Taylor, I want to make up for our lost time. If you will let me.” His lips are pressed together again.

_One without a permanent scar?_

“Please, let’s.” I reply.

So he pulls me in, slipping his arms around my waist, and my hands press against his chest. My head tilts up, and his slightly down towards me. I can feel my lips part slightly—just slightly.

“ _Did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?_ ”

“Oh, yes.” Tom says, one of his hands slipping to hold my petite chin between his long, slender fingers. It’s just two blue eyes, and two green ones, locked on each other intensely. “I quite did.”

His thumb traces along my jawline, but I don’t look away from him.

“I missed your soft skin that smells like vanilla,” And now his other hand is entangled in my hair, running his fingers through my long locks.

“And your golden locks of hair,” Now he leans in a little closer to me, the tips of our noses touching.

“Your name on my lips and your sweet laugh that kept ringing in my ears while we were apart,” I can’t help but smile at that one.

“I missed dancing with you, and kissing every inch of your body as we made love,” He presses our foreheads together, but he’s still not smiling. 

“And your lips that taste like strawberries and honey,” He captures my lips in a chaste, lingering kiss filled with built up longing and love. I press gently back, tilting my head up in his direction.

I can feel his tongue run along the bottom of my lip, then my upper lip, tracing every curve. I can feel his lips capture my plump button lip between his, sucking and pulling back on it.

Tom pulls away, gazing at my flushed cheeks.

“And I, too.”

But that’s all I have to say, because I’ve said it all before—expressed it to him just a week ago. He knows it, and I know it as well.

_The best soy latte you have ever had and me._

* * *

The sun sets.

We slip inside his cozy house silently, and walk to his bedroom hand-in-hand. My skin is flushed from the night cold that had beginning to sink in while we were outside, but he warms me up.

“Your hand is so cold,” Tom teases me. “You’re my ice cube,” He winks.

“And remember—you’re my heater!” I stick my tongue out at him, and when we get to his doorway I pull us to a stop, reach up on my tiptoes, and press my lips to his cheek.

But that’s all it takes, because I can feel something stirring up deep inside my stomach and chest. I think it’s the same for him, too. 

 _“Stay with me tonight. I won’t let go,”_ Tom leans in, whispering in my ear. His hot breath tickles my skin, causing a shiver to run down my back that’s visible. My legs tremble a little in the white, purple, and silver silk floral shorts I’m wearing. The small blonde hair on my arms stick up, visible because they’re exposed thanks to the white with a silver tone loose tank top, blouse that I’m wearing. (Author’s sidenote: if that description of her blouse even makes sense LOL)

He captures my earlobe with his lips, sucking and nibbling. I still stand with my body pressed against the side of his, and with the pleasurable sensation running through me and down to my heat that’s increasing with sharp intensity, I put more weight on my toes. My arms circle around his neck, drawing him in closer to me.

Tom’s other arm extends out to me, his hand taking the side of my face and angling it up towards him. He presses his lips to mine, turns his body to face me, and slides his other arm around my lower back, pressing three fingers against the middle of it so our pelvis’s are against each other. His tongue swirls over my lips gently—soothingly. I part my lips for him, and he slips his tongue into my mouth. But we don’t battle it out—he’s sensual and loving, cherishing my body that he hasn’t been able to love in a good eight months.

Tom starts to back us up towards his bed, and once we get there he sits down on the edge. I move to tower down as he does so, until my legs swing on both sides of his open lap, and I rest my small bum on his knees.

_I don’t have the strength to resist or control you.  
_ _Take me down._

“ _Take me down,_ ” Tom coos against my lips, earning a smile from me. I can feel him smiling into our kiss as well, and we both giggle at this.

Tom’s hands go to the hem of my blouse, pulling it up. I raise my arms up, letting him slide it off of me, causing us to break our kiss. But just for a moment. It’s not long before our lips meet again once it’s off, but we’re not like animals.

This is love.

He moves my long hair to the side, moving his lips from my lips to my face. He kisses the tip of my nose, both of my cheeks, my eyelids after I close them, my forehead, and then just when I think he’s about to kiss my lips again, and I part my lips, he catches me off guard and kisses the front tooth that I chipped with my microphone during the _Red_ tour. I blink, baffled by this, and burst out laughing. My arms leave his neck, and my hands come up to cover my mouth as my body shakes with laughter. “OH MY GOD!” I’m smiling ear to ear, and I shake my head at him. “Only you would do that!” I take my hands off my mouth and circle one around his neck again, and punch him in the arm with the other before it also goes back around his neck. I narrow my eyes at him, still shaking my head, but my gaze is filled with even more love for him. “Seriously Tom, you’re the only guy that could ever make something like kissing a chipped tooth romantic and cute.” My cheeks are flushed.

Tom laughs at me, and his own face is pink with embarrassment. But I can see it in his eyes—see that he’s taking pleasure in the sight of me laughing my ass off at his action—seeing me so wrapped in him.

I can see in his eyes the infinite love he has for me that continues to grow even in this moment.

Tom licks his lips, one of his hands reaching up to rub the rough scruff on his face. His tongue is visible through his cheeky smile on his face. “And only you would still find that to be romantic and cute even though it was completely absurd and creepy of me to do that,” He pokes back at me 

And then he trails kisses along my whole jawline before moving his lips down to my neck. Meanwhile, while all of this is going on, I can feel his hands running up and down my arms, warming up my cold skin. He runs the front of his hands among them, and I can feel his knuckles and veins brushing against my skin. I move my head to the side to give him better access to my neck. I sigh aloud in pleasure.

_I can be your light. Stay with me tonight._

He kisses every inch of my neck, and when he gets to my mole that’s on the left side of my neck, just near where my neck and shoulder meet, he stops there. He pecks his lips repeatedly to that spot. I smile to myself, rolling my eyes that he can’t see. Then I feel him sucking at that one spot in particular, nibbling on my skin gently, tongue swirling. I sigh again.

Tom trails kisses along my sharp and prominent collarbone, all the way to both shoulder blades. He slips my flush-pink and lacy bra straps off my shoulders, letting them slip down my arms. His lips move to my chest, kissing the skin just below my collarbone between my breasts. His hands reach back and unhook my bra, dropping it on the floor beside us, freeing my breasts.

My hands reach over to his sky blue crew shirt that I’ve seen him wear too many times to count. I rise it up and off of him, tossing it aside, and his lips return to my chest. My hands move to be on both of his shoulders, feeling his smooth skin against my palms. I move them against his collarbone, and on his pecks. I turn them over so the front of my hands are what run up and down his toned abs, my knuckles brushing against the defined outlines of his muscles just as he did to my arms. I hear him moan quietly into my skin. 

Tom’s lips go to my breasts, and he takes his time with them. But first his hands kneed both of my tiny breasts, and his lips return back to mine, capturing them in a much more passionate and heated kiss—but still slow just as before. I moan softly against his lips in return.

Then he takes them off of my lips and brings them down to my breasts, sucking on my nipples lightly. I can feel my core grow hotter instantly, and a much louder moan slips off my lips, along with his name. “Tom,” I pant, head dipping back, my eyes closed, the tips of my long hair reaching my very lower back and brushing against my skin.

_I’ve had you so many times but somehow I want more._

“I love it when you say my name,” Tom purrs as he lets go of my other nipple that he’s finished playing with. I can hear the desire in his voice.

I open my eyes and straighten my neck, looking down at him with a coy smirk. That’s when I feel him start to rise up slowly, and I stand up with him, the two of us taking our time to adjust our limbs. And somehow, even though we’re tangled up in each other, we do it gracefully.

Tom’s hand entangles in my hair, grabbing at it with need, and he kisses me again. His other hand is on the small of my back, and he begins to back me up. Where? I can hardly remember to be honest. My eyes are shut, and there’s nothing but pitch black that I can see.

But I trust him—even after all this time—even after the last year of hell that we’ve been through, I trust him. 

That’s what love takes. Trust.

_I need you to trust me. Go easy, don’t rush me.  
Help me out, why don’t you help me out?_

We back up slowly, taking one small step at a time, and we don’t trip over each other like our usual clumsy selves would.

I capture his bottom lip in between mine, sucking on it and pulling back. That’s when I feel my back press up against the freezing smooth tile that is on his bathroom wall. It makes he tremble, even with all of our heat and friction, since I can feel it all over my back.

Tom presses his knee in between my legs, parting them. His hand that was on the small of my back moves to my chest, running his knuckles and long fingers down my cleavage, down my stomach, and to my shorts. He tugs back on the waistband before slowly pulling them down.

I move my legs back and forth, shimming them down, and I let them fall to my ankles. I step out of them as we kiss, and scoop them up with my toes, flicking them off somewhere in the distance.

He’s taking his time with me—so loving, so affectionate. We’ve never made love like this before.

My hands that were around his neck go down his arms and to his black sweatpants. One hand slips into them, only to find that he’s gone commando under. As Tom nibbles on bottom lip, I laugh against his lips, causing our kiss to break briefly. I pat his hard member, and our lips brush against each other as he laughs at me. “Mmm—someone’s a naughty boy,” I purr, voice dripping in lust and joking.

“I can’t help myself,” Tom thrusts his hips a little and I giggle again, giving him a good pat. He groans as he captures my lips again. “You turn me on so much,” He pants against my lips.

“ _Trust me—I’ll take care of you,_ ” I say. This causes him to growl loudly, and one of his arms slip around my lower back and he captures my lips suddenly with a hungry, animal-like roughness, thrusting his hips forward and grinding them against my hand playfully, while his tongue buries itself deep in my mouth desperate for a rough battle. I can feel his usual dominance that I fucking _love_ and missed in bed coming out.

_All night putting your whisper on me._

I feel his hands slip my underwear down, which I kick off once it reaches my ankles. I slide his sweatpants down as we kiss, and he takes them off.

Tom breaks from our kiss and leaves me, leaning against the bathroom wall, as he opens the shower door that’s beside us and turns on the hot water. I bite my lip in remembrance of the last time we had sex in the shower, which is one of my favorite spots.

He feels the water hit has hand, eyeing me as he waits for the water to be warm enough. And once it is, and we can see some steam rising up, he reaches out and takes my hand, dragging me into his large shower with him. Tom shuts the door behind us before taking both my hands and rising them up above our heads, our fingers laced together, as he steals my lips in another kiss. 

I move us back, pressing Tom’s back to one of the walls filled with blue tiles. His arms snack around my body, holding me close, as he slips his tongue in my mouth. But I break our kiss and take his face in my hands, looking him in the eye.

I bring my lips to the scar on the left side of his forehead that’s always been there, then to the new left scar he got from the accident that’s far more prominent. My tips of my fingers brush along the soft skin of his face, and I can hear and feel his ragged. I kiss that other scar he got from the accident that’s on the right side of his jaw, and the press my lips to the one under his right eye, on the very point of his sharp cheekbone there. But my lips linger on that one, and I can hear him sigh lovingly. I bring my fingers to that scar, tracing over it, feeling the grooves along with his cheekbone that pokes out.

_Try to stay awake but you can’t forget._

I trail kisses quickly down his torso as I lower myself down—my lips land eventually to his left knee, where the deep three, circular scars are healing from when they drilled holes into his knee with cameras, and made a small incision along the left side of his knee cap to stitch together his two torn muscles. My lips kiss all three of those circular scars, and land lastly on the small incision. My hands run down his upper thigh slowly, and I hear him sigh again.

I rise back up, and I don’t take the time to help alleviate him somewhat in his lower region. I’m standing back up straight again. Tom takes over again, flipping us and pinning me back gently against the tile. I feel his lips on my neck again.

He adjusts himself with his hand at my entrance before slowly entering me. My eyes close, and I feel myself adjust to him inch by inch, slowly but surely.

How long has it been? _How long?_ **_How?_**

Tom kisses along my jawline, and I can feel all of him inside of me now. We sigh in unison, our breaths shaky, and he moves in and out of me slowly, cherishing my body.

I can feel the warm water hit my skin, and I press my head back further against the tile. So soothing—all of this is so soothing. 

_Wipe all of your tears and look you in the eye._

My cheeks are wet both with the water from the shower and my own small tears. I feel Tom’s fingers brush them away, and when I open my eyes, I come to find the green depths of his eyes looking at me. He slides in and out of me with slow, deep thrusts, causing me to moan slightly.

“ _I won’t let go,”_ Tom whispers to me, and I can see it. I know it—I know it. And I allow myself to be taken over by his love for me. I take his hand that’s near my face, bring it to my lips, and kiss it lovingly in response.

We shift positions so my stomach is pressed against the tile now, my back to him, as he thrusts into me. His lips land on my mole that’s on the back of my right arm, just below my shoulder blade. My head dips back in pleasure as his name escapes my lips in a moan full of ecstasy.

_She will be loved._

The hot water continues to hit our bodies that are intertwined as one, just as his hot breath continues to hit the nape of my neck as he kisses my skin.

His hands hold mine; fingers laced together, palms pressed against the tile that I’m against. He moans my name aloud, and I sigh at the way it sounds.

So familiar—filled with so much passion.

My back is pressed to him, our long legs overlapping and twisting in and out of each other, and his arms are around my torso.

He wakes me up in the middle of the night with that rugged voice of his by saying my name lovingly. “Taylor,” I hear it slip off his lips, causing me to stir, my eyes opening slowly.

“ _I will never walk away again. I’m never going to leave this bed,_ ” I hear him say, followed by his lips on the back of my neck where the top of my boney vertebra sticks out. His hands run up and down my naked skin—on my thighs, stomach, and arms.

I shut my eyes as a smile small appears on my lips, and I fall right back asleep.

* * *

 

The sun rises again, but I don’t leave. The golden rays from the sun slip into his room past his curtains, hitting us, but none of us get up and leave this bed.

Maybe some things can last forever.

Maybe we can—this time.

_Even if the sun crashes into us, I won’t let go._


End file.
